Spectrum
by SJO
Summary: Takes place a year after season 1. New Heroes emerge with unique powers and a common destiny, but the Company takes special interest in them. Can the current cast protect them from a terrible fate?
1. Colors

Spectrum

A "Heroes" fanfic by SJO

Notes: "Heroes" is owned by NBC. This takes place about a year after the first season. Probably no matter what I do to try to make this accurate, it will end up AU. I am making a number of assumptions, hopefully most of them I'll make clear in the story. If you have any questions, just ask. I'll do my best to answer. And if you're reading this after being familiar with the edition on the Heroes-TV fan website, I am adding a new character. I don't know if he'll work, but hopefully it'll help me do some of the stuff I wanted to do in the first place.

Chapter 1: Colors

Professor Suresh: "Unfortunately, the human race is devolving as well as evolving. This appears to be the true reason that mental disorders such as autism are on the rise. Yet as we all know, appearances can be deceiving. After all, research has shown that autistic people have more attuned senses, and some people with autism have incredible gifts in memory and mathematics. Consider that autism is an evolutionary strain independent of others. Children with autism are evolving more quickly than the rest of us, and the gifts they may acquire are, perhaps, beyond what any of us can imagine."

* * *

Harmony Miller--El Paso, Texas

"HARMONYཀ"

A tired, single mother called from the kitchen. "Come on, Honey, you're going to be lateཀ" She couldn't believe this. Her child was an early bird; she was usually down here by now and watching cartoons. The woman walked down the hallway, but then she heard her daughter groan loudly. The mother threw open the door. "Harmony?" The girl was thrashing violently in her bed and moaning. "Sweetie, what's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?" The girl didn't answer but kept groaning. "It's ok, Honey. I'm here. Let me help you get dressed." The mother pulled her up by the hand. Something wasn't right. The girl's pajama top looked bunchy. The mother looked behind the girl's collar. "Oh, you pillow must have broke. You got some feathers back here." The mother pulled out a feather from her back. The girl screamed louder. The mother couldn't believe it. The feather was a vibrant red. It looked like it was plucked off a parrot. "They stuff pillows with these?" She looked at the daughter's pillow and didn't see any holes. She finally took off the daughter's top and backed away with a gasp. Her daughter had colorful wings. "Honey, why were you wearing these?" She tugged at them, but they were stuck. The girl cried louder.

The mother ran out and called on the phone. "Hello, my daughter Harmony Miller won't be able to come in today. She's . . . sick." (She knew no one would believe her if she said her daughters had wings.) She started to dial the number for their doctor when Harmony came to the door. The wings were gone. "What happened?" the mother wondered. She still had the feather in her hand.

* * *

Claire Bennet–Odessa, Texas

The whole junior class of Union High was in an assembly. "After last year, when Jackie selflessly saved a life and then was tragically murdered, we thought maybe all of you would like to try being heroes. This year, we're going to require all of you to do service projects." A collective groan. "You guys are complaining now, but I think and that you'll feel good about doing your part. It's what Jackie would have wanted." That didn't really help. Some people tossed paper wads at the principal.

Claire was one of the most unhappy students about the announcement. Her father warned her to keep a low profile, and that meant giving up cheerleading for a while. She was lucky to make it back to her old high school and get a weekend job. He's not going to like this; it might not be safe.

There were tables set up in the cafeteria of things to sign up for. "Oh good!" she heard Zack say as they got into the cafeteria. "They got peer counseling."

"Counseling?" Claire hadn't spoken to Zack in a while. Of course, she couldn't tell him everything anymore, so they couldn't be as close friends as they used to be. And she wasn't sure how much he remembered. Still, though, it was nice to have someone to talk to a little bit. "That's a good fit for you."

Zack smiled. "Yeah. Well, I got one student in particular in mind."

He pointed across the cafeteria to a boy standing alone, wearing black from head to toe. His hair was jet black, his fingernails were black, even his eyes were black. He wore chains on his belt and a pentagram around his neck.

"Gavin?" Claire asked. "Good luck. People more experienced than you have tried for five years. I've never even seen him smile."

"Yeah, you see–" Zack lowered his voice, "I'm worried about him. He looks like the kind of guy who might come to school one day with a–" he whispered even lower, "a loaded gun."

Claire laughed. "Just because he dresses goth doesn't mean–"

"It's not just that. He's always alone. I don't think he has any friends. And I've seen the way he looks at people. I think he needs a friend. I think he needs to smile some."

Claire nodded and approached one of the first ones she saw. "I have tons of homework after that and work on the weekends. What's the easiest thing you got?"

"Well, we got some openings for second period on Wednesdays. That will help with the time. There are only two places that are doing that, though."

Claire looked it over. They weren't great choices–a nursing home or a special education school, or as Claire thought about them, old people or retarded kids. "Which of these are the lesser of two evils?" she thought. She finally closed her eyes and pointed at one. "OK, I'll sign up for this." She got a pin and signed in elaborate cursive "Claire Bennet," and put a heart at the end of her name.

The teacher looked at it. "Good choice, Claire. I think you'll make some very special kids happy."

"I don't know about that," Claire thought.

"Claire Bennet," a dark voice said as she turned around.

Claire jumped. Gavin was standing right behind her. How did he get there so fast? "Gavin?"

"Is your father having an internship?"

"Uh, no. He doesn't work at the paper factory anymore."

"Why not?"

"He just . . . doesn't."

"Hey Gavin," Zack interrupted, "why is six afraid of seven?"

Gavin looked at him questioningly.

"Because seven ate nine!" Zack laughed.

Gavin's expression didn't change, but he said, "That is very clever, Zachary. I thought it was clever in first grade as well." He walked on.

"Wow, you got a reaction from him," Claire said. "You might be able to reach him."

"Well, it may be a dumb way to start, but you gotta start somewhere." Zack went to the peer counseling table. Gavin was standing alone again, and he looked like he was talking to himself. Zack probably never saw that before. He may be right; Gavin may be dangerous. Why else would he be interested in her father's work? He acted like he knew what her father really does.

* * *

Hiro Nakamura–Tokyo, Japan (Most of this is translated from the Japanese)

It took a while, but Hiro returned from feudal Japan. He decided after that incident that perhaps his powers needed a little break. He returned to his job at Yamagato industries (occasionally keeping his eye on the news) so that he could see Ando again, but his mind was on the people he loved and missed. This afternoon, Hiro looked at one of the pictures on his desk. "Hanami," he whispered.

His mind drifted back to the day that he came back. The whole time there was one person he wanted to tell that he was a superhero, but since there was so much urgency, he didn't have time. So once the adventure was through, he ran to a house just outside of Tokyo in the country. He knocked on the door until it opened. "Hiroཀ What are you doing here?" a young man asked.

"I've come to see my favorite niece. Where is she?"

"Same as usual." The man stepped aside to let Hiro in, and Hiro took off his shoes. "Hanamiཀ"

"Yes," she called.

"Someone here to see you."

Hiro walked to a room in the back. He knew she wouldn't come running to him. In fact, he knew exactly what she was doing. He opened the door to see the little girl with black pigtails focused on an RPG she was playing. "Hanami?"

The girl turned around. "Uncle Hiroཀ" she cheered. No one really knew why, but she felt close to him since she was a very little girl, and he felt very close to her. She left the controls and gave him a hug. Hiro was a little stunned; she usually isn't a hugging person.

"Look, look," he said. "I have a new manga for you, American. See this? You know who that is? That's meཀ"

She looked at the comic and then at him. Her face showed no emotion, but Hiro didn't mind. "Don't tell anybodyཀ" he said with a chuckle.

She put the comic down and started playing the game again. Hiro sat down and watched her. "I just came back from a long journey. I've been all over America. I teleported there, like 'Star Trek.' I helped save New York from being bombed, and I made some new American friends. I'll take you one day to meet them, I promise."

Hanami turned around. "Time?" she asked.

"Uh, time?" He looked at his watch. "It's 5:45." Hanami looked down and turned back to the game. That was the one thing Hiro couldn't understand about her. She kept asking him about the time, and she never seemed satisfied when he told her. Sometimes she'd ask seconds later what time it was. Hiro didn't know what made her a slave to time. Now that he could bend the rules of the time/space continuum, this was one thing he hoped to undo. But right now, there was something else he had to do. He had to go to the bathroom. "I'll be right back," he told Hanami, and he got up and walked out of the room.

"I don't like this," he heard his sister Kimiko, Hanami's mother say. "Every time he comes, he either has a new video game or a manga for her. And he comes here almost three times a weekཀ"

"He's been gone for so long," his brother-in-law Mayanaka answered.

"And look at how she's improved. She's actually reading books, not the silly pictures he keeps giving her. She hasn't been playing as much on that mind-numbing Game Station. She's been outside."

"But she still doesn't look us in the eye. She doesn't say anything but 'yes' to us. She screams when we touch her. She's like that to everyone, except Hiro. I don't understand it any better than you do, but she's been close to Hiro ever since she was very little. He's doing a good thing."

"I'm not sure. You know what's going to happen in a few months. He's only making her more like him, and I know better than you how detached he is. She won't be ready."

"I still don't think it's a good idea. Everything will just be too hard and too fast."

"It wasn't yours, remember? It was Father's, and I for one think it's the right decision. I won't have my daughter be hikikomori."

A hikikomori in Japan is someone who refuses to leave home, get a job, go to school, or participate in anything having to do with society. Hiro's father accused him of being part of that group several times when he was young. Hiro wondered what they were talking about as he was alone. Hanami was about to turn 6, and that an important age in Japanese culture. There's an elaborate ceremony for Japanese girls after their sixth birthday. Hiro was too little when Kimiko had her ceremony, and he couldn't remember exactly what happened, but he remembered that all their family was there and she wore makeup and a kimono and looked very grown up and pretty. Perhaps that's what they meant. School would happen just after.

After he washed his hands, he came into the kitchen and bowed at the couple sadly. "I probably should go. I am sorry. I did not know this was a bad time." He tried to give his sister a smile, but she didn't smile back. He turned back to the door, and then he felt a tug on his shirt. He looked down, and Hanami looked up at him with big eyes. "Time?" she asked.

"Uh . . ." Hiro started to check his watch, but then he got an idea. "Here. Why don't you take it? Then you'll always know what time it is." Hanami grew even bigger. Hiro chuckled again. "You look just like a Senchi." Hanami smiled; she always loved the Senchi manga (Sailor Moon in America). Hiro played with her pigtails and said in a playful voice, "Hanami, little Senchi." She laughed. Kimiko cleared her throat and gave him a glare. Hiro quickly walked out.

He finally pulled up his blog and typed in an entry:

"I miss my niece, Hanami. I want to go visit her, but I don't think I will be welcome."

* * *

Gabriel Bonhomme--Paris, France (mostly translated)

Gabriel had the TV on while he was brushing his teeth. The news kinda served as a second shot of caffeine, especially since he was so focused, listening for specific stories–stories that rarely aired. Yet today was one of those rare occurrences.

"An Indian geneticist may break a record in the upcoming Nobel Prize ceremony."

Gabriel spit the toothpaste on the bathroom mirror and ran to the living room.

"Mohinder Suresh has been nominated for two Nobels in the same year, one for physiology and medicine and one for peace. Suresh successfully identified and isolated a number of super-genes and has spent the better part of the previous years identifying people who may have such genes. Word is that he helped avert a nuclear catastrophe in New York City, though this has yet to be confirmed. Mohinder is continuing the work that was theorized in 'Activating Evolution' written by his father Chandra Suresh, who was tragically murdered a year ago. Nobel rules dictate that no one can be nominated posthumously. Chandra Suresh was also recently nominated for a Darwin award."

Gabriel watched the TV spellbound. Ever since he was a young boy, he was fascinated with the Nobel Prize. He memorized every person who ever won, and what's more he got all of their biographies and knew every available detail of their research and contributions. Of course, his goal in life was to win the award himself. He mentally practiced his acceptance speech over and over. He wasn't greedy. In fact, the award and the fame were actually the lowest things on his radar. He most wanted the principal behind it. As he saw the winners, they were all people who changed the world forever and made it a much better place. That's what he wanted to do. He wanted to change the world. But he still didn't know how. He hadn't gotten any ideas yet of what field he wanted to pursue.

"In a related story," the anchor continued, "papers dealing with autism research were recently found in Chandra Suresh's estate. No particulars were given yet, but some believe that the geneticist outlined a cure for autism. Mohinder Suresh had this to say."

A picture of a young, handsome, Indian man can on the screen, and he said, "From what I can tell, these papers were a side-project my father hoped to pursue. He first wanted to prove his initial theory of evolution, but from that I could see how he could argue that there is an autism gene."

This story was even more interesting. Gabriel was also intrigued by autism, but he had to be. He had Asperger's Syndrome, a milder form of autism. He often thought that isolating the gene that causes autism and finding the cure would be an automatic Nobel, but he didn't want to do that.

But there was something even more unusual about the story. Mohinder spoke and an interpreter talked over him, but the strange thing was they were in perfect sync. This almost never happened–this American was speaking French perfectly. Gabriel wondered why he even needed an interpreter.

"C'est tres choette!" he said aloud. (Translated–That's very awesome.)

"Mohinder will reveal more of his father's autism theory today at an auction for autism research. And now, for the weather."

Gabriel turned off the TV. He was heading to the library to get that guy's book.

* * *

Mohinder Suresh–New York City

A standing ovation as the handsome Indian man took the podium. "Thank you," he addressed them. "My father Chandra believed that the human race is continuously evolving. I am happy to say that in the past year as I continued his research, I have been able to prove most of his theories." Another standing ovation. "After this, I felt as though my father could finally rest in peace, that his work was through. But then I found a new theory he was starting to pursue just before his death. One of his contemporaries argued the converse of his theory, that the human race was devolving. He saw this as the reason why disorders such as ADD and autism were becoming more prevalent. My father, ever the optimist, refuted this claim. He believed that evolution, even in the underprivileged, is possible. In fact, his belief was that these conditions are another form of evolution. Their genes can be located and monitored and modified."

"Wait a minute!" a voice in the back of the crowd interrupted. "I thought this guy had a cure for autism!"

Mohinder looked taken aback for a moment. He never let on anything to anyone, not even the press, about a cure. He knew what the reaction would be. "Sir, I am very sorry you were misled. My father's research, from what I can tell so far, had nothing to do with a cure. He more interested in leaving the autism alone and seeing how it develops."

The whole group groaned, muttered, and whispered. As Mohinder continued to talk, people started to get up and leave until the theater was completely empty.

"What was that about, professor?" a disappointed female voice said behind him.

He turned around. "Mrs. Petrelli? I–I did not know you were here. Surely you are not with them. You'd understand that–"

"You have no idea what I understand. You should have allowed me to arrange this."

"What do you know about autism?"

"More than you realize. Though I am curious why your father took such an interest in it."

"I suspect it has something to do with Shanti, my late sister. We may never know. Have you seen Peter? He was supposed to help me out."

"I have not, sorry," she replied coldly, and she walked out.

* * *

Peter Petrelli–Central Park

Peter Petrelli was sitting on a bench chewing slowly on a bagel. People were passing by him on all sides, but he barely noticed them. He was lost in the sound of a lonely piano. Just in front of him was a man probably somewhere in his late fifties or perhaps even his sixties wearing plaid shirt and sweat pants. He was just staring into space and playing "Moonlight Sonata" on a grand piano. Peter was listening to it as though he had never heard the piece before. He didn't really like classical music, but there was something about how this guy was playing it that just held him spellbound. He never experienced music like this before. As the guy played, he could see shades of blue before his eyes, or shapes, or other colors. He could even smell and taste some of the notes.

He wondered how long it would be before Mohinder's auction. He looked at his watch. "Whoaཀ Where did the time go?" He felt like he'd only been there twenty minutes, but he'd actually been there two hours. He had to get going.

First he headed toward the pianist. "Hey, you're really, really good. I never heard . . . better . . ." But the man made no acknowledgment that anyone was even there. He just kept playing. He was just as immersed in the music as Peter was. "Here dude. You deserve it." He pulled out a $10 and set it on the place where the sheet music was supposed to go. The man still didn't look toward Peter or said anything. Part of Peter thought, "Man, he may be a good piano player, but he's a jerkཀ" but just then, he thought his eye caught a glimpse of a hospital bracelet on the man's wrist, and another part of him thought, "Well, maybe he's deaf or mentally disabled. Maybe I should ask about him at the hospital."

* * *

Gabriel rode to the nearest library on his three-wheeled bike. He chained it up and went inside.

"Bonjour, Gabriel," the librarian greeted.

"Bonjour," he replied. He went straight to the computer to find if they had the book in the stacks, and they did. He started going to the section where it was located when he ran into a girl his age with auburn hair and green eyes.

"Bonjour, Gabriel," she said.

"Oh, bonjour Georgette."

"Comment t'allez-vous?" (How are you?)

"Bien, merci. Et vous?" (Fine, thank you. And you?)

"Bien." (Fine.)

"D'accord." (OK.) He started heading for the shelf.

"What are you looking for?"

"'Activating Evolution' by Chandra Suresh. Did you hear? His son is nominated for two Nobel Prizesཀ I want to see what it's all about." He turned back to the shelf. "Ah, voila." He pulled a book off the shelf. "Ooh la la. This is going to take me all weekend."

"Oui. Well, er, Pierre, Sofie, and I were going to go ice skating tonight. Would you like to come?"

"Hmm," Gabriel thought. "That's a coordination activity. I probably won't be very good, but at least I'll be out spending time with friends, and I bet we'll go somewhere to eat. If things aren't going well, I could just sit on a bench and read."

"D'accord. I'll come," he replied.

"D'accord. Bien."

"Georgette, could you give me a ride there, please? It's on the other side of town, right? It will take too long to ride on my bike."

"Sure, I'll give you a ride. I'll stop by your apartment around 6:30."

"Bien. Merci beaucoup." (Thank you very much.)

"Je vous en prix. (You're welcome) See you then."

"Au revoir!" Grabriel watched her leave, and he sighed lonely. He went up to the circulation desk and checked the book out. He went out with a big, eager smile of anticipation sprawled all over his face.

"Oh, I can't wait!" he finally said and sat down on a bench.

One minute later, Gabriel walked very slowly back into the library, staring at the book with a look of grave confusion. The librarian looked at him with concern. "Qu-est que c'est, Gabriel?" (What is it?) "Did you lose something?"

"Non, madame," (No, ma'am.) Gabriel replied. He put the book back down on the desk. "Je suis fini." (I am finished.)

* * *

Hiro excitedly knocked on his cousin's door. The door opened, and his sister answered. "Hiro?"

"Hello! I come to see Hanami. I've been thinking about–" But to Hiro's surprise, she stepped out of the door and closed it behind her. "Is there something wrong?"

"Little brother, we need to talk."

"You don't have to say. I know what you think of me. But I'm trying to do a good thing."

"I believe you do, but we have to make changes. I want my daughter to grow to be a responsible woman. I know she's autistic, but she doesn't have to become a hikikomori!"

"So what if she is?"

"What do you think Father will think of that?"

"I heard you talking about my father. He had something planned for her. What is it? Does it have to do with her sixth birthday? Does it--?"

"That's none of your business, Hiro. She's not your daughter. It's time Hanami start learning things about the real world, and the real world isn't a manga."

Hiro was hurt by that statement, and he knew what she was going to say. "Please, don't keep me out. She loves me! She always comes running, 'Uncle Hiro! Uncle Hiro!'"

"Now, don't be upset. I'm not saying we don't want you in her life, but I would prefer that you don't come back as often, and no more mangas!" She took the comic book out of Hiro's hands and started to rip it.

"No! I need that!"

"For what?"

"I, uh, I collect them! Sell for millions of yen one day."

"You were touching it, with your hands. You know that's the number one rule not to do if you're collecting."

"Well, uh, I haven't quite finished reading it yet. I'm using it to learn English. That's something Hanami and I can do. We can work on learning English together."

"What good will learning English do for her? She barely speaks Japanese." She slapped the comic back at Hiro. "Go home."

"Please . . ."

She was slowly closing the door, and her face softened, and she said with genuine regret, "I'm sorry, little brother." Then, she shut the door.

Hiro began to cry. "Your life may not be a manga, sister, but mine is!" he shouted back in tears. The door wouldn't open again, so he went back home.

* * *

Claire walked into a special ed school and approached a desk. "Hi, I'm Claire Bennet. I'm here to do two hours of community service for school."

"Yes," the secretary replied. "Union Wells High told us you were coming. Come with me." She took Claire to meet a teacher who took her to a playroom where a little girl with red hair was playing with blocks.

"This is Harmony Miller. She's got severe autism."

"You mean she's like Rain Man or something?"

"Not necessarily. She's more like the kid on that 'House' episode. She doesn't talk. She keeps to herself. She probably won't give you much trouble."

"OK, so what do you need me to do?"

"Just watch her and make sure she doesn't harm herself. If she needs something, she'll let you know."

"How can she let me know if she doesn't talk?"

"We've been teaching her to talk with a computer, but trust me, she'll have ways of letting you know."

"Okaaaay." Claire sat down in one of those chairs that was way too small for her and stared at the girl. Something told her this was going to be the most boring two hours of her life.

* * *

Gabriel pulled a heavy book off the shelf. He wanted to try it again. He sat down at a little table. He opened the book to chapter one. In two seconds he had the page read and flipped over to the next one. A couple of more seconds, and he had those pages read. Then the next, then the next, then the next. He seemed to be gaining momentum, flipping and flipping and flipping, reading faster and faster. It seemed as though he had just opened the book, and now he was closing it. It didn't even seem to take a minute. His head began to hurt. He put his face into his hands and moaned. He thought he felt like his brain was growing.

"Gabriel," the librarian said rushing to his side. "Etes-vous bien?" (Are you alright?)

"Madame," Gabriel said. "S'il vous plait, turn to any page in this book, and point to any sentence, and tell me which one it is."

"D'ac . . . cord," she replied as she opened the book to somewhere in the middle. "Page 123, sentence 15."

Gabriel quoted it verbatim.

"Oui! Tres bien!" (Yes! Very good!) "Have you been back here memorizing the whole book?"

"Non. I wasn't memorizing it, I was reading it. I'm finished with it now, madame. Merci."

"Je vous en prix." She went over to shelve the book.

"Madame, avez-vous une aspirine?" (Ma'am, do you have an aspirin?)

"Oui. I'll get you some."

"Merci." Gabriel could not believe it. He read the whole book in a minute or less, and he remembered every word. He buried his head in his hands again. This was not good.

Yet his eyes peeked through his fingers and slowly wandered over to the reference section–the encyclopedias.

* * *

Peter had been to two hospitals, even a couple of nursing homes, but no one matching the pianist's description could be found. He didn't try to get discouraged. This was New York City for crying out loud! It probably was going to take a while. He was a little surprised that he hadn't found several men who were like the one he saw and he had to pick them out of a lineup or something.

Finally, late in the afternoon, as he was heading over to a desk in a nursing home, he saw a waiting room where several old people were watching "The People's Court," and in the front row was the pianist.

"That's him!" Peter whispered. He pulled over a nurse that was passing by him in the hall. "Excuse me, miss, who's that guy in the front row?"

"Actually, sir, we don't know," she answered. "We found him here about two weeks ago. He didn't have any identification, and he doesn't talk."

"Well, what's he doing here?"

"There's really no other place to put him right now, until we can locate and contact his family. We think he's an idiot savant."

"I don't think he's an idiot. I saw him do some incredible things at–"

"No, that's just an expression. He doesn't talk or do basic tasks on his own, but he can write complex quadratic equations and recreate pictures he saw for just a few seconds. You're literally looking at Rain Man. We tried to check him in to a mental hospital where he might get better care, but they're overcrowded."

"I saw him in Central Park this morning playing the piano."

"You know, you're not the first one. We had a few reports that he was outside in New York, sometimes at Central Park, sometimes at Ground Zero, sometimes at Kirby Plaza, sometimes it's just completely random. He's always playing the piano. And every time we send a van to pick him up, he's not there. He's always back here watching 'People's Court' or 'Jeopardyཀ' or something. I actually believe it's very unlikely that he'd think about going out. Idiot savants, you know, are very rigid about routine. New settings would be so stressful for him."

"Well, how good can he play piano?"

"How should I know? We don't have one." The nurse left him.

Peter stared at the man who was fixated on the TV, starting to wonder if this was the same guy. He noticed something different about him. On the other arm that didn't have the hospital bracelet, he had one of those Livestrong rubber bracelets that had many colors–it looked like every color of the rainbow. He got another nurse. "Where did he get that?"

"Don't know. At lunch, he was wearing it."

Peter looked back at the man and thought, "Guess that's how he used my ten."

* * *

Claire Bennet was right. This was the most boring two hours of her life. The girl was just playing with toys and blocks, not making any noise, never making any communication that she needed anything. She seemed pretty smart, grouping things by colors and following the same pattern every time—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple.

Claire looked up at the clock. Fifteen more minutes. It's probably going to feel more like a half hour. "Wonder if one of these computers has internet?" she thought. She went over to one and pulled up Myspace. "Cool." Then she felt hungry. "Maybe I can get something low fat from the vending machine," she thought and she left the room.

Harmony looked up and saw a computer that wasn't on its screen saver. She very slowly typed her name in the box. Then she hit "Enter." Right at that moment, fire came out of her fingertips and set the table ablaze.

Claire was just coming back to the room when she saw smoke. "Oh, great!" she muttered. "Just when I leave–Harmony! Harmony! Are you ok?" She ran into the room and gasped. The whole room was on fire, but Harmony was flying above the flames, with large, red wings sprouting out of her back. She looked down on the cheerleader with a flat look on her face. It looked terrifying. "What is this kid?"

* * *

As evening was setting in, Gabriel went back to his apartment and took a shower. He felt a little better clean, but his head was still throbbing. He pulled out of his dresser drawer an oversized, black shirt of a familiar logo of a beam of light hitting a clear triangle and splitting into the spectrum. Somehow, this seemed like the perfect shirt to put on right now. He slipped that on and some jeans. Looking at the shirt made him think about the album, so he put it on his CD player.

He was surprised when he heard Pink Floyd singing. It was in French. It was still poetic, still rhymed, still was in beat, and as far as he could tell the meaning of their songs hadn't changed much. But it was in French. He hadn't listened to this album in years, and he was sure it was in English when it was purchased.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. He opened the door. "Oh, bonjour Georgette."

"Bonjour. Pink Floyd?"

"I was just thinking about this album for some reason. Je ne sais pas." (I don't know.)

"Are you thinking of your father?"

Gabriel sighed and looked away. On top of all this, he didn't need that brought up. "Petetre, un peu." (Maybe, a little bit.)

"Oh. Well, are you ready to go ice skating?"

"Ah, j'ai oubile. Je suis tres desole, Georgette." (I forgot. I'm very sorry, Georgette.) I'm very tired. I had a hard day. I got a bad, bad headache. Maybe another time."

"Oh, je suis desole. Well, I hope you feel better soon."

"Merci." As she left, he thought, "I hope I do too."

* * *

Hiro passed by his sister's house just before work and looked into Hanami's play room in the window. She was sitting in front of a TV playing a video game. Then Kimiko came and grabbed her arms. Hanami started screaming and throwing a fit. Hiro just watched. He knew that they were making her do something she didn't want to do, and he felt so powerless. He, the hero with superpowers, felt powerless.

But then, Hanami saw him in the window. She got out of her parents' grip, crawled toward the window, and her mouth formed that usual request, "Time? Time?"

This time, though, Hiro knew she wasn't asking about the time of day. Why didn't he think of this before? He looked at her and very slowly nodded. Then, he started to concentrate and squint his eyes–

But before he could shut them, he saw Hanami turn her head sharply toward her mother, and suddenly both parents were thrown across the room. Hiro's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Did he just see what he thought he saw?

Hanami reached her hand toward the window, and it opened by itself. "Uncle Hiro!" she called.

"Hanami! I'm coming!" But as he came closer, he saw a strange reflection behind his shoulder in another window. It was an Asian man wearing dark clothes and what looked like a samurai sword. Hiro's eyes grew wide. He knew who this was. He stood still. Suddenly, Hiro felt a hand on his shoulder, and everything moved backwards. Then he found himself looking at the house from the road again.

"What are you doing? Isn't this going to cause a rift that will unravel the time and space continuum?"

"I had to do this."

"What should I do?"

"Go. Leave her alone for now."

"But they—"

"It's not her time yet."

"Time," Hiro whispered. "That's what she meant." He heard the visitor walk away. "But when will it be her time?" he asked to the back of the visitor's head.

"When there's a rainbow around the moon," the man replied without turning back. Hiro looked back at the window for a moment. Hanami turned off her game, looked out the window, and waved at Hiro. It seemed like she remembered what happened.

* * *

Gabriel was online chatting with an American friend who knew French. "I had this crazy day. Today, I read five volumes of an encyclopedia in five minutes. I feel like my brain is going to explode."

"You feel like Frank Drummer?" his friend typed back.

"Edgar Lee Masters, 'Spoon River Anthology,' died at 25 when he tried to memorize the Encyclopedia Britannica. Yes! That's exactly how I feel!"

"That's kinda cool."

"No it isn't. Remember, I'm hyperlexic. I'm addicted to books and reading. I love savoring a good book for several days. Retaining all that information is great, but if I read books this quickly, how can I satisfy my insatiable appetite for books?"

"Well, the faster you read, the more books you can read. Maybe you'll be able to read all the books in the world. I think you should think positively if you really do have this ability."

"I'll try. So, how are you doing with pi?"

"Made it to five hundred places."

"Choette!"

"Yeah. Well, I gotta go. My mother needs the computer."

"OK, Micah. I'll talk to you tomorrow." He logged off.

Of course, pi, the litmus test to see how smart he's really gotten. He pulled out a pad of paper. "3.14 . . ." he wrote, and then he went on, and on, and on, writing front and back, sheet after sheet, getting ink all over his hands, getting Writer's Cramp, listening to the music of Pink Floyd still playing in the background. He finally reached a point where his brain just cut out, went into overload. He was in the middle of writing another digit when suddenly his head just fell down on the table, and he fell asleep.

In his dream, the last two songs of "The Dark Side of the Moon" were playing all around him. He was walking on a pebble beach, and it was night. He had his shoes off, and he was walking to the ocean to feel the tide. And he saw a bright green light in front of him in the distance, and he could hear a voice calling for help. He just started going toward the light, thinking, "They need my help." He was transfixed on that light. He knew he was in a trance. Slowly, the light grew bigger and brighter. Then, at the end of the dream, he reached the source of the light–the Statue of Liberty's torch.

Mohinder–"Sometimes, evolution can be painful. Evolution can be terrifying. Evolution, by definition, is change. It's impossible to resist the change when evolution selects you. But when your very nature is to resist change, what will you do?"

Gabriel woke and found himself in the grassy median of an interstate. He had no idea where he was, but he knew it was very far from home.

To be continued . . .


	2. Camouflage

Chapter 2: Camouflage

Mohinder–"Perhaps one of the most impressive adaptations to come out of evolution is that of camouflage. The weaker creatures developed unique patterns that work as illusions so they may hide from the stronger predators. Perhaps nature is much stronger and smarter than we believe."

Claire Bennet and Harmony Miller–Special Ed School, Odessa, Texas

As Claire was coming back to the room where Harmony was, she saw smoke. "Oh great. Just when I leave–Harmony! Harmony! Are you ok?" She ran into the room and gasped. The whole room was on fire, but Harmony was flying above the flames, with large, red wings sprouting out of her back. She looked down on the cheerleader with a flat look on her face.

After the initial reaction of fear and confusion, Claire gulped her emotions down. "OK," she thought, "This may be some sort of demon child, but I'm still in charge. I got this invincible power, and I got to use it. If something happens to her, I can forget about college." She took a deep breath . . . and then she realized she didn't smell smoke. Why wasn't the alarm going off anyway? Well, that didn't change that she had to do something. She stood up in a chair and reached her arms out to the girl.

"What are you doing?" a voice said behind her.

"Get out of here!" Claire said as she turned around, but in a split second the fire was gone. Claire looked around in shock. Nothing was burned. The teacher who Claire met at the beginning was looking at her oddly. Claire stepped off the chair, her lips moving, trying to think of something to say that didn't make her look crazy. "Sorry, I-I-uh . . ."

"You're two hours are up, Miss Bennet."

"Yes. Thank you." She turned around. Harmony was sitting there with the blocks. Everything looked like it was supposed to. "I-I . . . guess I'll see you next week, Harmony." She left feeling dreadfully confused about everything.

* * *

Zack–Odessa, Texas

Zack knocked on the door of a rather shoddy house just on the edge of a wood. A woman with tangled hair who looked like she hadn't slept in days answered. "Hi," he said. "Um, is Gavin around? I'm one of his friends from school."

"Friends?" the woman said in mild surprise.

"Yeah. I mean, he doesn't know me too well, but I'd like for him to think of me as a friend."

"Well, he's in the den working on his calculus homework."

"Calculus," Zack muttered to himself. He hadn't quite gotten to that branch of math yet. He came in and saw Gavin hunched over a piece of paper. "Hey Gavin. How's it going?"

"Get lost, Zachary," Gavin replied, not even looking up from his paper.

"Honey, don't chase him away. He's trying to be friends," his mother whispered. "I'll make you boys some cookies."

"You know, Gavin, you can call me Zack. Everybody else does," Zack said.

Gavin gave him a look. "I don't think so."

* * *

Gabriel Bonhomme–Somewhere in Los Angeles

Gabriel could hear the speeding cars and feel the grass and hard earth beneath him as he opened his eyes. "Maybe I was sleepwalking again," he thought. "How? I've been taking my medicine. I haven't been sleepwalking in years." He got up and looked around. This didn't look familiar at all. He looked behind him and saw a skyline that didn't have the Eiffel Tower. Where was he? All the cars were going so fast, and he didn't see any people to ask questions. He started to hyperventilate and groan, thinking, "Ou sais-je? Ou sais-je? Je suis perdu! J'ai peur. J'ai peur!" (Where am I? I'm lost! I'm afraid!)

He finally decided that the only way he could get any answers is to head toward the city. He very cautiously made it across the median toward the skyline. He came to a point where it stopped, and that made him troubled. He couldn't find a way to cross. He took a closer look at a road sign. "Les Anges? Le Bois de Houx?" (The Angels? Hollywood?) "San Francisco?" They were names that sounded familiar. He processed the information and remembered from his encyclopedia experience that they were all cities in California. "Non! C'ette impossible!" (No! It's impossible!) "I'm in America!"

* * *

Hiro Nakamura–Tokyo, Japan

After the work day, as soon as he came home, Hiro wrote excitedly into his blog.

"O.O /\/\ I can't believe it! My niece has powers too! Little Hanami, I saw her do telekinesis, just like Jean Grey. The sad part about it is her parents don't want me to see her much anymore. They're afraid she's going to be a hikikomori. Now that I have all these questions swimming around in my head, it's terrible.

"Maybe I should slow down. I went to see her yesterday afternoon after I wrote that last blog, but my sister, her mother, told me she didn't want me sharing comic books with her anymore. See, Hanami has a demon that keeps her from speaking or being close to people. I think it's a good demon because he lets her get close to me, but I understand if her parents want to be close to her too. Still, it made me sad. Today I stopped by to see her through the window, and I saw her parents try to take her away. Now she keeps asking me for the time, and I never understood why. She saw me and asked for it again, but it hit me this time. She didn't want to know the time. I thought she knew that I could control time, and she wanted me to use my power. She must have sensed a mysterious aura around me. And I nearly did, but then she used her powers first. She looked over at her mother and pushed her against the wall just by looking at her. Then she made the window open by itself and started reaching for my hand.

"Oh, and I need to tell you about this. I saw me in the future! I look pretty cool, but I still looked troubled. Anyway, he, well I, not me but the other me, made time go backwards to before Hanami used her powers. And then he, well I, the other me, told me that it was not her time yet. So I was wrong. She knew she had powers, and she was waiting on me to tell her when she could use hers. And I asked him, well me, when her time will come, and he, well I, said it will be when there is a rainbow around the moon. Is that even possible? It must be very rare.

"But isn't this cool? I knew this demon was a good one. It gave her powers. I need to train her, help her level up and get control of it. I could be like Mr. Fantastic or Mr. Incredible. I can't think of anyone better to be superheroes with than with my little niece."

Hiro felt better after putting this down. He looked at postings from his previous blog entries. He has hundreds of friends all over the world who posted on his blog daily. Now it's the way of how most of his new friends in America communicated with him. As he scrolled up further, he saw a post that made him pause. "Hiro, can you please come to America? Mom has a very dangerous job to do, and I think I need your help to keep them safe. –Micah."

"Why not?" Hiro thought. "If I can't help train Hanami now, I might as well keep my hero skills in top form." He turned off his computer and called Ando, but he got a busy signal. "Maybe he found another girl to look at. You'd think he'd learn his lesson with Nikki. Oh well. I'll go by myself. It probably won't take too long, and I'm sure Micah's family will take care of me. I don't think I need the sword. Do I? Micah said it was dangerous. Well, if I need for it, I'll come back for it." He turned off everything in his house and pocketed his cell phone. Then he walked outside. He closed his eyes and pictured what he remembered of Las Vegas. He concentrated on his mental pictures very, very hard. Then, he tensed every muscle in his body, held it for a few seconds, and then relaxed.

When he opened his eyes, he saw sunlight. He was on a sidewalk in what was clearly downtown in a big American city. First he had to make sure he hadn't overshot and went several days in the future. So he stopped a pedestrian. "Excuse please, what is the day?"

"Uh, it's Wednesday," she answered.

"No, no, what day, month?"

"Oh, the date." She told him.

"That's it!" Hiro thought. He went further down the sidewalk, threw up his hands, and screamed, "YATAA! HELLO LAS VEGAS!"

"Uh, you're off by a few hundred thousand miles," a pedestrian said. "This is Los Angeles."

"Oh . . ." Hiro said. He clearly hadn't gotten the hang of things quite yet.

* * *

Peter Petrelli--New York

Peter went back to the nursing home. He looked around until he found the pianist alone in a room. He had a pad of paper and was drawing something. Peter came in. "Hey, Piano Man. I hope you don't mind if I call you that. I don't really have anything else to go on. You may not remember me, but my name is Peter. I saw you in Central Park, and you're amazing. Listen, I know you're all alone here and you don't have a home. Not a whole lot of people are doing much to help, but I want to help. I'm doing to do the best I can to find your home and your family, and until I do, if you don't mind, I want to be your family."

The man never looked up or stopped drawing. If Peter didn't know any better, he'd think that the guy didn't even hear him. Peter went closer to him and knelt down to his eye level.

"Do you understand what I'm asking? I don't know much about idiot savants or autism or anything, but I saw 'Rain Man' five times, and I watched it again last night for good measure. I don't want to do anything that will make you feel uncomfortable, but I really do want to help."

He still didn't look up.

Peter whispered, "I'll get a piano. You can play on it all day."

The man yanked the page off and pushed it over to Peter. Peter looked at it. "Hey, that's me." It was a picture of the man playing at Central Park and Peter stopping to talk to him. "But you didn't even look at me. How did you–?"

Piano Man pulled off the rainbow bracelets on his hand.

"Yeah. I saw that. This must be how you spent the money I gave you." But when Piano Man handed him the bracelet, it turned into $10 in Peter's hands. "This is the money I gave you. So you are–?"

The man bowed his head. Peter spotted a strange mark on his neck that looked like a couple of tiny parallel lines.

"Oh, they got you. You're one of us!"

For the first time, the man looked up at Peter just for a second in amazement. Then just as suddenly he looked back down.

"Yeah, I know people who have that mark who've been through what you've been through. And just between you and me, I can do those things too." He put the money in his right hand, made a fist, closed his eyes, and pictured how it used to look. When he opened his eyes and his hand, the bracelet was back. He handed it to Piano Man. "I guess I can help you in more ways than one. But, like I said, I don't want to deviate from your routine. I mean, if you want to stay here, that's fine."

Peter got up to leave, but then he felt a tug on his hands. Piano Man was still looking down, but he had grabbed Peter's hand.

"OK, I'll take that as a yes. I just got to do a few things, make my apartment habitable for two people, get an ok from my landlord, that sort of thing. It won't take long." Peter left feeling really good. Even flying didn't have the exhilaration that he got from helping people.

* * *

Around 8:00, traffic was soon bumper to bumper, and Gabriel was able to get across the street safely. He walked alone, not getting anywhere. He was hoping to meet someone who wasn't American who could tell him where to go. He was kinda hoping he could find his way to Las Vegas and find Micah. He didn't figure there were a lot of people in Las Vegas named Micah. He could probably straighten everything out, he was that smart.

When he made his way to civilization, he went into the nearest convenience store to look for a map. He walked through the aisle, browsing through something. He finally found some road maps by the counter. He pulled out one for California and one for Nevada, but looking at the two of them just made him more confused.

"He, cette n'est pas une biblioteque!" (Hey, this is not a library!) the storekeeper suddenly barked at him.

Gabriel looked up at him in astonishment. "Parlez-vous francais?" (You speak French?)

The man scoffed. "What's that got to do with anything? You being funny?"

"Non, monsieur, I did not intend to be amusant (funny). It only surprises me that you, as an American, speak French so well."

"Since when does English sound like French to you?" the man answered as he leered at Gabriel.

Gabriel shook his head. What was going on here?

"Look kid, the only language I really speak is money. Unless you start talking my language, you're gonna have to put those maps down, huh?"

"Oh." Gabriel dug into pocket but could only find his student ID. "Je suis desole, monsieur. I have no money, and I will leave you alone. Au revoir."

He thought he heard the guy mutter as he walked out, "Tourists."

* * *

"So, how are you doing in Calculus?" Zack asked after a long period of silence.

"I'm ok," Gavin answered.

"Well, you're better than me. What science are you taking?"

"Physics."

"And you're English course?"

"Brit lit. We're reading Beowulf next week."

"Aren't you a Junior?"

"Yeah."

"Why are you taking Senior-level courses?"

"I was following a different path before I moved here, and they kept me on it."

"Is it too stressful for you, keeping up?"

Gavin stared at him.

"Listen, Gavin, I know something's up with you. You've been troubled about something. I want you to consider me a friend, 'cause I want to help you."

"Well, I think you should keep your nose out of my business."

Zack was silent for a moment, taken aback. "Alright, I'll respect that. If you ever change your mind and you want to talk, just let me know." He got up to leave, but as he walked out the door, he heard somebody clear their throat behind him. He turned around and saw Gavin's mother.

"Sorry about him. He's always had social issues since his father left just after the diagnosis."

"Diagnosis?"

"He has Pervasive Developmental Disorder-Not Other Specified. PDD-NOS. It basically means we tested him for everything and nothing quite fits." She lowered her voice to a whisper and added, "There is something I'm very concerned about. It's in his room."

"You think I should see? OK." He followed her back in.

* * *

As Gabriel continued to meander, a rather fancy car pulled up in front of him and stopped. Gabriel started to walk around, but somebody came out and approached him.

"Bonjour Gabriel, n'est-ce pas?" (. . . is it not?) He was a very tall man in a trench coat, blond hair, horned rimmed glasses, and a smile so big it was kinda creepy. Gabriel backed away. There was something about this guy he didn't like. "N'ayez pas peur. Je ne vais pas vous blesser. Je veux etre votre ami." (Don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you. I want to be your friend.)

There was something different about the way the way he was talking. Gabriel couldn't explain it, but he could tell the man wasn't speaking genuine French. "I know you're faking," Gabriel said. "You're mispronouncing it."

The man laughed. "You got me. I was hoping to make you more comfortable."

"Who are you? How do you know who I am? Are you a spy?"

"That's not important."

Gabriel gulped. That probably means he is a spy. "What do you want with me?"

"What I want is not as important as what you want."

Gabriel started to walk away, but the man with glasses got in his way. He smiled and put his hand on Gabriel's shoulder. "I know this is a frightening time for you. You feel paranoid, like everyone's out to get you. But I'm one of the good guys, alright? I know things. What do you want to do with your life, Gabriel?"

Gabriel didn't know why he told this stranger his dream, or why he even thought about telling him, but he did. "It's silly. You'll laugh."

"No, go ahead. Tell me."

"I want to win the Nobel Prize."

The man smiled even bigger and he nodded. "That's ambitious. I like that. What field? Chemistry? Peace? Literature? Economics?"

"I don't know. I haven't made up my mind yet. Probably not literature."

"Well, Gabriel, I got a plan that involves you. You, Gabriel, can change the lives of millions of people for the better. Join me, and I promise you, I guarantee you, you will win the Nobel."

"You're going to make me a guinea pig?"

"No, no, not at all. You're going to be my partner. And I'll give you all the credit in the end, the entire claim on the idea. What do you say?"

Gabriel once again stared into space. The boy almost wanted to go with him and take up his offer, but part of him wanted to break into a run. Eventually, his dislike and distrust of Americans won over his curiosity. "Leave me alone, American spy!" he yelled and he ran away.

"Hey! Come back here!" the man in horned rimmed glasses yelled. Gabriel never looked back, so he couldn't see that the man was right on his heels.

Suddenly, Gabriel was in an alley rather than a sidewalk. An Asian man pushed him against a wall and covered his mouth. Gabriel was terrified; he thought he was getting mugged. The man ran past. After it was certain that he was gone, the Asian let Gabriel go. "Je suis desole," he said meekly as he bowed.

"Well, thank you, but I think I could have gotten away by myself."

The Asian man looked at him in wonder and smiled very big.

"What?" Gabriel said.

"You speak Japanese!"

Gabriel gaped at him. "What?! Are you kidding? Non! I don't speak Japanese! I am French! I'm speaking French! You're speaking French too!"

The Asian man's eyes grew bigger. "You mean you think you are speaking French, but you're really speaking Japanese?"

"Well . . . that's what it seems like."

"And it sounds like I'm speaking French to you, although I'm really speaking Japanese, right?"

"I guess so."

He gasped. "It's like you have a universal translator, like on 'Star Trek!'"

Gabriel rolled his eyes at the sci-fi reference. "Pardon, but I prefer science fact to science fiction."

"It's got enough basis in fact. Here, let me test it out," the Asian stranger said. "I work for a software translator company. I've gleaned a few things from major languages. I'll say a few phrases, and you tell me what I say, ok?"

"Um, alright."

"The quick red fox jumped over the lazy brown dog."

It sounded meaningless, but Gabriel said it anyway.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." Gabriel repeated that. "Little bird, pretty little bird, little bird, I will pluck your feathers." Gabriel knew that one; it was the chorus to "Alloette." "Hear oh Israel, the Lord thy God, the Lord is one." Gabriel knew that was from Deuteronomy 6. Then the Asian man said something that just sounded like a string of gutturals. Gabriel just gave a disgusted look and moved back. "Well, what did I say?"

"Just a bunch of gibberish that got spit all over me."

"That was Klingnon, probably the foreign language I know the best."

"Oh, well that's not a real language."

"It is too! Real linguists developed it!"

"So it's man made. Nobody but Star Trek geeks speak that, not real people."

The Asian man suddenly gave him a weird look. He came toward him, and he had his mouth open as if something was just on the tip of his tongue.

"What is it? Is something wrong? You're starting to scare–"

"Run," he said softly.

Gabriel turned around and ran.

"No! No, no, no!" the Asian man called back. "I just said it in computer. I gave you the command for 'run' in ones and zeroes. You even translated that, and that's not a real language."

"Oh, uh well . . ."

"It's ok. You're amazing. I ought to tell my father about you. He'd hire you in a second."

Gabriel laughed bashfully. "Well, if you're done robbing me--"

"I wasn't robbing you! You looked like you needed help, so I helped you."

"Oh. Thanks then. Anyway, I got to head for Las Vegas."

"That's where I'm going."

"Really? Do you mind if I ride with you?"

"Oh, sorry. I don't have a car, either."

"Great," he said sarcastically. "I guess we could walk together."

"That will be good. My English-speaking friend isn't here, so I need someone who can speak English and Japanese to come with me."

"I told you, it's French!" But as he looked at the man and his confused expression, he softened a little. "But . . . I guess if we understand each other, it is enough."

The Asian stranger paused and held up his hands. "Right. I know enough English to get by, but it will be better this way."

"What are you wanting to do in Vegas? Hit the casinos?"

"No, I'm going to see my friend Micah."

"Micah? That's who I'm going to see!"

"Micah Sanders?"

"I don't know his last name. I only met him on the Internet. But that's probably it. I don't think there are many Micahs, even in a place like Las Vegas. My name is Gabriel, by the way."

"My name is Hiro Nakamura."

"Nice to meet you, Hiro," he said in a rather detached voice.

* * *

Gavin's room looked like a scene from "A Beautiful Mind." All around the walls, there were newspaper clippings and pictures of various people. Several Zack recognized right away as belonging to Jackie. There were a few near hers of a waitress from Midland that Zack had heard of. He saw many more of a Vegas tycoon, a comic book artist, and a New York politician. Most of them Zack didn't recognize.

"Gavin told me all these people have something in common," his mother explained. "He says they've all been murdered, most of them by the same killer. Gavin's always had a morbid curiosity. He asked me all sorts of questions about death and people who died even when he was little. Sometimes I wonder how such questions even occur to him. Ever since Jackie was killed last year, he's become more withdrawn, and more . . . . obsessed with the topic."

"It may just be a rumor," Zack said, "but I've heard that Gavin had a huge crush on Jackie in the fifth grade."

Gavin's mother nodded. "I remember that. She broke his heart, tore up love notes in front of his eyes, laugh at him behind his back. I think that's part of the reason that he's become so anti-social. He's learn not to trust people like Jackie."

"You think he's taking her death hard? You think he might be a danger to himself or others."

The mother sadly nodded, and a tear silently dripped down her cheek. "Yes, I do."

* * *

As Claire came into her new home, the first thing she saw was her father on the phone in the kitchen. He was silent for a while because he was listening. Claire was extra-quiet because she knew every call her father got these days was tremendously important. Finally he said, "Alright. Thanks for keeping me posted. I'll contact you soon. My associate and I may come down ourselves in a few days. Goodbye."

"Has he been sighted?" Claire said softly as he hung up the phone.

"Claire, we discussed this. We can't talk about it in the open."

"Mom and Lyle aren't here, are they?"

"No, your mother was taking Mr. Muggles to a doggie spa, and Lyle had soccer practice."

"So we're alone, then? We can talk about it, can't we?"

Mr. Bennet sighed. "Yes, he was sighted. Thankfully, however, he's far away, for now. He's still in New York."

"I still don't understand. We all saw what happened. We saw him–"

"It's happened before, Claire. Frankly, I'm not surprised."

"Dad, while we're on the subject, I'm concerned about the girl I had to watch today at the special ed school."

"For your project?"

"Yeah. She's . . . well, I think she's . . . like my family. My other . . . weird family."

"She has abilities?"

"Yeah, but she's also severely autistic. I don't think she's got a good handle on them."

"You know, if I were still with the Company, I would know just who to talk to. He oversees a branch across the pond."

"You mean, in another country?"

"England, to be exact. Autism kinda is his speciality. I only met him a couple of times. I've always had a feeling that he had an . . . agenda. We might actually have to keep our eye out for him." Bennet groaned. "One thing at a time!"

"Well, what can I do?"

"You might have to do what Claude did. Take her under your wing. Give her reason to trust you. Maybe train her, some, teach her control."

"How do I do that?"

Bennet made a sharp gesture indicating that she should stop talking. "And whatever you do, don't let her fall into the Company's hands." He started to walk out of the room, and turned around before he left. "Maybe you can start by giving her a present."

* * *

Gabriel and Hiro both walked down a desert road. They talked a little, but after a while they both got tired and thirsty. As evening was setting in, a pickup truck stopped by them. "Hey, you guys need a lift?" the driver asked.

"Non, merci," Gabriel replied.

At the same time, Hiro cried, "Yes please!" He was louder than Gabriel.

The boy tugged his arm. "I don't know about you, but I don't have any American currency. I don't even have any Euros."

"Ah, don't worry about it!" the driver said. "It's on the house."

"Uh, what house, sir?" Gabriel asked.

The guy shrugged. "I mean it's free. Nobody deserves to walk down a road like this at this time of day. Where you kids headed?"

"Las Vegas," Hiro replied.

The driver gave a concerned groan. "That's quite a ways away. Well, I'll at least get you started. You can get in the bed. Just lay low so the cops won't see ya."

So they did. Back there they started talking.

"So, how do you know Micah?" Gabriel asked.

"I met him last year," Hiro answered. "I saved his father's life. I saw him again in New York. And we have things in common."

"Like what?"

"Well, we're both fans of 'The Ninth Wonders.'"

"I've never heard of that."

"It's a manga."

"A comic book? Micah never told me he was interested in comics."

"Where do you know him from?"

"He's my internet ami."

"Internet? Cool. Do you have a blog?"

"No. I mainly go on there for chatting and message boards. I've thought about keeping a blog, but I've never been good at writing a diary."

"Well, I have a blog. You don't have to be on a friends' list to comment on it, so you can go see it."

"Maybe I will."

Hiro yawned and closed his eyes. "I'm tired. I might try to go to sleep back here."

"Good luck," Gabriel said. But the more he thought about it, the better it sounded. It was probably better sleeping in the back of the truck than on the ground. "I might try to sleep back here, too, but I need to warn you about something."

"What?"

"You need to keep an eye on me because I sleepwalk sometimes."

"Alright. Well, I'll try."

* * *

Peter browsed through a piano store downtown. He examined a grand piano in the corner of the store. It was very dusty, but when he lifted the cover on the keys, they looked in good condition. He played a note at random. It sounded in tune. Then, suddenly, he sat down and began playing "Claire de Lune."

"You play well, sir," a salesman said behind him.

Peter stopped suddenly and turned around. "Uh, actually, I don't . . . often."

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I understand that you donated a piano for the autism research auction the other day?"

"The one that went bust? Yeah. We took it back."

"Well, I'm here to buy a piano."

"Young man, that one you were just playing is probably the cheapest one we have, and it's $5000."

"Can I . . . rent it?"

The salesman laughed long and hard about that.

"It's OK. I'll buy it. I can get the money."

"Really?"

"My brother just happens to be Congressman Nathan Petrelli."

"Didn't he disappear just after the election?"

"Yes," Peter said sadly, not looking the salesman in the eye.

"Personally, I still can't believe he won. I didn't vote for him, and nobody I knew voted for him."

Peter decided to interrupt that train of thought quick. "Still, I'm from a powerful and wealthy family. I can get the money."

"Well, if that's your situation, I'm sure we can deal with it. Where do you live, a townhouse?"

"I got an apartment."

The salesman laughed again. "How are you going to get it in?"

"I'll let your movers decide." With that, Peter walked on.

* * *

"So how did you get here if you didn't have a car?" Gabriel asked Hiro.

Hiro decided that if they were going to travel this long, he might as well tell Gabriel the truth. "I teleported, like 'Star Trek.'"

Gabriel shook his head. "Again with the 'Star Trek,'" he thought. "Cette impossible!" he said aloud. "No, wait." He stopped and thought for a moment. He recalled a passage from Suresh's book that said that one could bend the time/space continuum to his will if he had the evolutionary gene. One who is capable of that can teleport to any place he so chooses or go backwards and forwards in time. "I believe you. If Chandra Suresh says it's possible, it must be. After all, his son proved it. But if you were going to Las Vegas, how come you wound up in California?"

"I don't know, exactly. It still takes some work. Maybe I didn't visualize it close enough. Or maybe I teleported there to meet you."

"How can that be? You don't even know me."

"You have to admit, if I wasn't there, you would have been caught by that bad man, that villain."

"Non, I would have gotten away eventually."

"What about you? How did you get here, all the way from France, if you didn't have a car?"

"I actually don't know. I went to bed last night, and I woke up here. I'm hoping Micah might help me figure it out."

They came to a sign (not the famous, glitzy sign, just a normal road sign) that read, "Welcome to Las Vegas," but Gabriel read "Bienvenue a Les Vallees Fertiles."

"The Fertile Valleys?"

"What?" Hiro asked.

"I don't think there's a town in America called that. We are going to see Micah, right?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Gabriel closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He thought to himself, "It's not French. It's not called 'The Fertile Valleys.' It's Spanish. It should say, 'Bienvenue a Las Vegas.' It's Las Vegas. Las Vegas. Las Vegas."

When he opened his eyes, the sign read, "Bienvenue a Las Vegas."

Gabriel laughed. "Hiro! It says 'Las Vegas!'"

Hiro gave a small smile. "Uh, yes it does."

"See Hiro, I thought about it hard enough, and it stopped translating to French. That means I'm starting to get the hang of this!"

"Oh, good!"

* * *

Peter directed some movers carrying a large piano up his steps. Right behind them, stepping into Peter's apartment for the first time, was the Piano Man. As he came in, Peter clapped his arm and said, "There's my new roomieཀ" The guy moaned and backed away. "Sorry, man, sorry," Peter said quietly.

Mohinder–"Camouflage is a unique and mysterious magic trick of nature. Those who truly master it only show us what they wish for us to see. Can we, then, ever truly sort reality from illusion?"

To be continued . . .


	3. The Call

Chapter 3: The Call

Hanami Nakamura–Tokyo, Japan

"Are you sure? Did you call his house? . . . Very well. I will look into it. Domo arrigato." Mayonaka hung up the phone and turned to his wife. "That was Ando. Hiro hasn't been to work in two days, and he hasn't called in. There's no answer at his home."

Kimiko sighed. "So, he's missing again?"

"That's what it looks like. I'll get the party over again."

"What for? I know where Hiro is! He went to America on a whim again! He keeps disappearing like this. Why do you make a big deal about it every time?"

"Because he's your family. He's your father's only son. I took your name for a reason–I want to be in your father's good graces!"

"Hiro can take care of himself. We should be more worried about her." She gestured to their daughter sitting at a desk in another room circling shapes on an activity sheet. "She's the one who's more prone to wander off. She'd be the one who'd be more likely to find danger. The ceremony is in a matter of days. We can't neglect her while we go looking for Hiro."

"I do care about Hanami, but I love Hiro also, as a brother-in-law. I don't want anything to happen to him. I thought you loved him, too."

"When are you going to open your eyes? He is a fool! Are you going to become a fool like him?"

Hanami had her head up. Her parents didn't realize, but she was listening to every word they were saying. Hearing her mother say such unkind things about her uncle made the little girl so angry. And as she grew angrier, the pencil on her desk started to roll away from her, by itself. Hanami wasn't looking at the pencil, but when she noticed it, she looked at it closer and concentrated on it. The pencil started to roll the other way. Hanami was ready to see if she could throw it across the room when she looked up and saw a face in a mirror across from her. The eyes looked hard on her, and the face slowly shook in a "no." Hanami sighed and had the pencil roll back to her hand, and she returned to her work.

* * *

Hiro Nakamura and Gabriel Bonhomme–Las Vegas

Hiro was sitting outside a truck stop dialing a message through his cellphone. He was adding a quickie entry to his blog where he said that he met a new friend named Gabriel and compared him to Cloud Strife. Gabriel came out with wet hair. "Ah, I feel better," he sighed.

"Great. Let's go," Hiro said.

"You sure you don't want to rest here?"

"What for? We're almost there."

"Oh. I guess you're right."

Hiro found Micah's phone number, called him, and got directions. As they were going around the outskirts of downtown Las Vegas, Gabriel kept looking at the city. "How can anybody live there? It's so bright and so loud."

"Not as bad as Tokyo sometimes," Hiro answered. "I'm sure Paris is a lot like that. It's the City of Lights, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it can be. Good thing I don't live downtown."

Eventually, they came to a small house, and Hiro knocked on the door. A woman with shoulder-length blonde hair came out.

"Hey! I remember you. You gave Sylar what was coming to him."

"Hello, Nikki," he said.

"Well, Micah's in his room. He's waiting for you."

They went back and found a dark-skinned boy with curly hair sitting at a computer. "Hello Micah!" Hiro said.

"Hey, Hiro," he replied.

"Wait, you're Micah?" Gabriel said as he came in.

"Uh-huh," Micah said. "And you must be Gabe."

"Yeah. I always thought you were older."

"I always thought you only spoke French."

"Well, I do. I can't explain why it's coming out like English today, but it is. Hey, how did you know who I was?"

"Hiro talked about you on his blog. He called you his Cloud Strife."

Gabriel gave Hiro a weird look. "What?!"

"From Final Fantasy VII," Hiro said meekly. "It is a compliment."

"What kind of name is Cloud?"

"So I see you know Japanese, too," Micah said.

Gabriel turned to him. "I really don't know how it's happening, but . . ."

"It's ok. You know, this could really help you, you know, with getting the Nobel and all."

Gabriel looked off. "I haven't thought of that."

"So, Micah, what do you need me to do?" Hiro asked.

"Well, Mom is doing a dangerous job at the casino tonight, and I'm just kinda worried, especially if Jessica shows up. I want to keep an eye on things and make sure they're ok. But if something does go wrong, would you please stop time and make sure everybody gets out safely?"

"Uh, ok."

"What can I do?" Gabriel asked.

"I'll think of something."

"Micah," Hiro said, "I have a very important question."

"Is it about the rainbow around the moon?"

"Yes. When is one going to happen?"

"Well, I did a little research. I didn't find a whole lot. It's a very rare astrological event, even rarer than Haley's Comet. You know how rainbows are. The sun has to be in just the right angle."

"So, there's no way to . . ." Hiro couldn't think of the right English word.

"Predict it? I don't think so. It could happen in a hundred years, or it could happen tomorrow. I guess we're just gonna have to keep our eyes open."

"Why do you want to know about that?" Gabriel asked.

"It's, uh, it's personal," Hiro answered.

"If you don't mind, Micah, I have a more important question." Gabriel explained in detail what had happened, and said, "So how did I get here? And what am I doing here?"

Micah shrugged. "I don't know."

Gabriel balked at him. "You don't know? But you're so smartཀ I always admired your intelligence. I was expecting you to figure out everything."

"I don't have all the answers. But I think it may have something to do with what happened the other day."

"What do you mean?"

"You know, the whole speed reading thing, memorizing half the encyclopedia. Weird, unexplainable things just tend to happen to people who can do stuff like that. Trust me, I know."

Hiro gaped at Gabriel. "You can do that? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't see any reason to."

"It sounds just like Charlie," he said softly as he looked away.

"So what do I do?" Gabriel asked Micah. "How do I get back?"

"I think we'll find out in time," Micah answered.

"Guys! Dinner's ready!" Nikki called from the kitchen.

* * *

Zack–Union Wells High School

First thing in the morning, Zack went to the school counselor. "We have to have a meeting with Gavin. I had a talk with his mother yesterday. She's afraid he might be suicidal."

"Zack, we can't force someone into counseling."

"But we can't do nothing either! Something needs to be done, like an intervention!"

"Zack, all the psychologists say that if you don't acknowledge your faults, there's no way you can change them. If Gavin doesn't want counseling, there's nothing we can do."

"Fine. I'll talk to him again. Maybe I'll get him to admit he has a problem."

* * *

Piano Man and Peter Petrelli–New York

Peter was pleased at how quickly the Piano Man had made himself at home. Since mid-morning, his guest played on the piano. Usually, Peter just sat and listened. He administered to his guest's needs when the time came. The nursing home gave a detailed list of his schedule and the foods he'd eat. He just tried not to be too much in the way because he wanted his guest to be comfortable. He searched missing person sites online, and so far he was having no luck.

That afternoon, there was a knock on the door. "Be right back," Peter said. He closed the door behind him, and he opened the front door. There was a pretty young woman with dark hair at the front.

"Are you Peter Petrelli?" she asked with a slight Irish accent.

"Yeah," he nodded.

She smiled. "Wow, your cute. You single?"

Peter laughed. "Yeah."

"Oh come on, how can that be?"

"Well, I had a girlfriend, but she . . . she died."

"That's terrible. I'm sorry."

"So, what do you need? You moving in, need a strong back to help lift your refrigerator up the stairs?"

The woman laughed. "No, actually, my name's Allison O'Brien. I'm a volunteer worker with an autism research study, and I was hoping you could help us."

"Well, I'm afraid I'm broke right now."

"Oh, we're not concerned about money. We've got plenty of money. All we need is a subject, and it's my understanding that you're taking care of a savant."

The music in the other room suddenly stopped.

* * *

At the casino, Micah told Hiro and Gabriel, "OK, while Mom's doing the job, I just need you to distract the crowd. Just do anything that will keep them from looking around."

"Why?" Gabriel answered. "Surely they're distracted enough. All these colors and sounds and flashing lights, it's a distracting nightmare. It can overload the senses."

"We can't take those kind of chances. Now, if everything goes smoothly, I'll send a signal. I'll, uh, I'll make all the slot machines give jackpots."

Gabriel's face went a little white. "Uh–"

"And if Jessica appears or I need your help, I'll make the fire alarms go off."

"Uh, can you send a signal that's not so loud?" Gabriel said. "I thought I told you on the message board, I have a fear of loud noises."

"It's ok," Hiro said. "I'll stop time so that we can get out, away from the loud noises."

"Alright, I guess things are settled," Micah said. "Good luck, guys."

"Oui, bon chance," Gabriel said as Micah left. Then he turned to Hiro and said, "Why don't you do your hocus pocus on these people?"

"That's not going to distract them! When I stop time, I'm the only one moving. They can't see me."

"Alright, fine. I'm not going to get drunk or gamble, and I don't know any magic tricks. I'm no Rain Man, OK?"

"Well, that just leaves tone deaf."

"Pardon?"

"Tone deaf." He pointed across the casino to a karaoke bar.

"Oh, le karaoke. I don't know if that a good idea."

"Why not?"

"I can't sing very good."

"So? That's why it's called 'tone deaf.'" He was already heading over there.

"OK, but my taste in music is very picky," Gabriel said as he reluctantly followed. They went into the bar. "Hi. We want to sing," Gabriel said.

"Gotta have a drink first," the bartender answered.

"Uh, I'm not very thirsty."

"Hey, do you work for free?"

"Fine. I'll have a glass of wine, the cheapest you got."

"What did he say?" Hiro asked.

"He wants us to buy a drink so we can pay him. Make it a small one, just one glass. We don't want to get drunk or spend too much money."

"Sake, please," Hiro said to the bartender.

The bartender swiftly got them their drinks. Gabriel sipped his, and as he did, he quietly hummed to himself.

"What are you singing?" Hiro said.

"Oh, it's a stupid drinking song my uncle taught me when I was a kid. I think about it whenever I have a glass of wine."

"Can I hear it?"

"I don't know. You're not drinking wine."

"Sake is wine! It's from rice!"

"Oh. Ok." He started singing, "Chevalier de la Table Roundre, gounton voir si la vin est bonne. Chevalier de la Table Roundre, gounton voir si la vin est bonne. Gounton voir, oui oui oui, gounton voir, non non non, gounton voir si la vin est bonne. Si je meur, je meux conne montarra dans la cave ou il ya di bonne vin. Si je meur, je meux conne montarra dans la cave ou il ya di bonne vin. Dans la cave, oui oui oui, dans la cave, non non non, dans la cave ou il ya di bonne vin. Dans la cave, oui oui oui, dans la cave, non non non, dans la cave ou il ya di bonne vin." (Knights of the Round Table, let us see if the wine is good. Let us see, yes yes yes, let us see, no no no, let us see if the wine is good. If I die, I want you to bury me in the cellar where there is good wine.)

Hiro laughed. "I like that song!"

"Yeah. It's about the Knights of the Round Table. It makes it sound like all they did was drink wine."

"I like the 'oui oui oui' part."

Gabrielle laughed. "That was always my favorite part, too."

"Can I sing it with you? It can be our warm up."

"I don't know. It's a very French song. You think you can handle it?"

"I'm up for anything." And they sang it very loudly together. It already started to attract attention.

"That's pretty neat," the bartender said. "You know, I haven't heard a French song since I learned 'Frer Jaque' or 'Alloette.'"

"You know, that song's about brutal torture of a bird?" Gabriel said.

"I didn't know that!" Hiro laughed.

"Yeah. The guy in the song plucks off all his feathers. I almost wonder why PETA didn't fly over to France and ban that song." He took another sip. "Wait a minute. Did I actually sing that in French?"

Hiro nodded.

"So, you don't know what I said?"

"No, but it was still good."

"Huh," Gabriel said. He sipped his wine again and then said, "Hey Hiro, do you know any drinking songs?"

Hiro shrugged. "A few."

* * *

"He was in here," Peter said as he led Allison to the back room. "He's been playing the piano all day, and I don't know why he . . ." He opened the door and looked around in shock. Piano Man was gone.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. He . . ."

Allison, meanwhile, wondered through the room, looking thoughtfully at everything. Suddenly, she stopped. "Oh." She picked up a very thick book sitting by itself on a table. "I had no idea this was a book first. I saw the play, and I loved it." She smiled and looked at the blurb on the back, and then she turned to Peter and looked in his eyes. "Do you mind if I borrow it?"

There was something Peter didn't like about all this, but he still found himself say, "Sure . . ." But then he shook his head. Something didn't feel right. "Surely you can get it at the library. See, I uh, I'm reading it."

"There's no bookmark," Allison said.

"I don't need one. I know exactly where I am. I just started Chapter 5."

Allison put the book down. "Right then. When he comes back, could you give us a call? Here's my card."

Peter took it. "Thank you. Goodbye."

After she left, he flipped the card over. All it said was "North Point" and had a telephone number with an area code he didn't recognize and a UK email address. Then he picked up the book Allison was looking at. He looked closely at the cover and flipped through it. He never saw this book in his life. Where could it have come from?

Just then, Peter felt a dizzy spell and a little bit of a headache. "Oh," he groaned. "I better go lay down."

* * *

After they were done with their drinks, Hiro and Gabriel searched through the database for a good song. It was a rather lengthy one divided in categories on a touch screen. "Ooh, Backstreet Boys!" Hiro said pointing.

"Non!" Gabriel said indignantly.

"Oh . . . N SYNC?"

"I am not doing a song by a boy band! Let's do one from the 70s or 80s. That's when music was good. Now, what's one that's good for two people to do? See anything you like?"

"I don't see any I know."

"Huh. I guess the language barrier is a problem. Hey, how about this one? It has some Japanese lyrics in it. You heard of it?"

"Oh, yes! I like that song!"

"OK, great. I'll sing the main part, and you sing the background parts, so you'll cover most of the Japanese lines."

"Good."

Hiro and Gabriel pushed the "Submit" button on the screen. "Just got to concentrate on the English lyrics," Gabriel thought. "It shouldn't be too hard. I heard this song from the crib. I got every syllable memorized."

Five minutes later, they were on the stage with wireless microphones singing together, "Domo arrigato, Mr. Roboto!" It went the way they planned out. As Gabriel sang, Hiro did the robot around the stage as he sang his part. That probably got the most attention. It went off without a hitch, until they got to the end. Gabriel whispered to Hiro very quickly, "I don't think I can hit these high notes at the end."

"No problem," Hiro whispered back, and he took over the end of the song. The crowd that gathered around the stage applauded and cheered. "Domo!" Hiro cheered.

"Encore! Encore! Encore!" the audience chanted.

"What are they saying?" Hiro said.

"They're saying 'Again,'" Gabriel answered. "They want us to do another song. This time, why don't we do 'She Blinded Me with Science,' just keep rolling with the sci fi theme. You'll pretty much have to repeat the same thing over and over."

"It's not going to work," Hiro said. "You don't like what I like, and I don't know your songs. If you want to keep this going, you're going to have to do it alone."

"But they want you too!"

"Sorry. Uh, I have to go."

"Where? Micah hasn't called us yet."

"No. I have to go . . . bathroom."

"Oh. Oh! Yes, go on." Gabriel sighed. "Let me think about this." Somebody else had already taken the stage. Gabriel went up to the database and touched "Artists," and then "Pink Floyd." He expected probably "Another Brick in the Wall" or "Learning to Fly" would be up there, and he kinda thought it would be ironic to sing "Money" in a Las Vegas casino. But he saw every single they released on the screen. "Oh, hey!" He saw his favorite song listed. He was rather surprised, but he pushed it.

A little while later, he was called up again. He sang the first few lines of "Hey You." But then Micah sent his slot machine signal, and the casino was filled with a lot of loud bells and flashing lights and screams of joy. Gabriel, in the middle of a note, covered his ears, turned away, and hyperventilated. A few people booed him. He calmed down enough and took up his place in the second verse.

That's when something weird happened. He saw flashes of pictures before his eyes, one of a kind young man with dark hair, a man frantically drawing something, the light he saw in the dream the night he came to America, a woman with short dark hair and an indignant look, and of hands on piano keys. He could barely hear the track of the karaoke song. Instead in his ears, he heard snatches of piano notes and someone far off screaming, "AIDEZ! AIDEZ!" (Help!) He tried his best to stay in the real world and sing the song, but his voice kept getting weaker and weaker, and he couldn't keep track with the song.

Hiro just came out of the restroom. He didn't hear Micah's cue. He added to his blog about his newfound talent and claimed that his real identity was Killroy. Now, he could see that Gabriel was in trouble. Even in the audience were muttering, "What's wrong with that guy? Did he have too much to drink? No, he only had one glass of wine, though he did seem to get a little tipsy. Man, if that's what it does, I'll never drink again."

But Hiro had another idea. "It's what he was saying. His senses are overloading."

Then, quite suddenly, Gabriel dropped the microphone and fell down. People screamed and ran toward the stage. Hiro knew that if Gabriel came to and saw all these people around him, he would feel even worse. So he concentrated very hard and scrunched up his face. Then he relaxed and opened his eyes. Everything was still. People were in the middle of running; some were airborne still. Hiro liked to take everything in whenever he did this, but he was beginning to learn that there was no time for this. He got around the people and ran toward the stage. Gabriel hadn't quite hit the ground, and the microphone was still in the air. The poor boy looked as pale as death. His forehead was sweaty, and his eyes were closed. Hiro put his arm around the boy's back. "Here, Gabriel. It's ok. I'm getting you out of here."

Suddenly, Gabriel's eyes snapped open. That shocked Hiro enough, but what terrified him was Gabriel's eyes. They looked glazed over, and his pupils were dilated.

"Gabriel?"

Gabriel didn't acknowledge Hiro. He slowly got back his balance, and he walked through the crowd with slow steps.

"Gabriel? Where are you going?"

But even as he said that, time started again. The crowd got closer in and stopped short when they didn't see the boy there.

"He's OK," Hiro said quickly. He smiled and flashed a "Live Long and Prosper" sign. He made his way through the crowd repeating over and over, "He's OK." As soon as he cleared the crowd, he broke into a run and yelled, "Gabriel!"

* * *

Peter sat on the edge of his bed. He still felt kinda dizzy, but it wasn't as bad. He could hear piano music coming from the other room again. He had an idea. He pulled up his legs so that his knees were right under his chin. Then he put his arms in front of his face, and he closed his eyes, breathed slowly, and concentrated on an image of a book.

One minute later, he burst into Piano Man's room. "You were that book, weren't you? When she was here, you hid and turned into a book, didn't you? You're like a shapeshifter, a transfigure-er."

Piano Man didn't answer or even turn around.

"I know you did, man. I just tried it. I was a book for about ten seconds. I don't know how in the world you held it for so long; it was very uncomfortable and stiff."

Piano Man still didn't look up. So Peter went to him and tried to look him in the eye. "That woman who was here, she was a bad woman, was she? You were hiding from her, weren't you?"

Piano Man slowly took his hands of the keys and hid his face in his hand as though he was remembering something unpleasant.

"It's ok, man," Peter said softly. "She's not coming back." He took out Allison's card, tore it up, and threw it away. Piano Man promptly started playing again. Peter had even more questions about him now, and he knew there was no way they could be answered.

* * *

Hiro ran around the casino, calling Gabriel's name, but he couldn't find him. He found Micah outside the casino. "Hey, did you get the signal? Everything went fine," Micah said.

"Have you seen Gabriel?" Hiro asked.

"Gabriel? Isn't he with you?"

"No, I lost him." Hiro explained the best he could of what happened.

"Well, if he was moving when time was stopped, then he must have been moving extra fast. He was moving against the flow of time."

"So he could be anywhere," Hiro said. "I must find him!"

"He's 17. He can take care of himself if he had to . . . but it would probably be better if you found him. He does have, um, a problem."

"I need him too since he can speak Japanese. But how can I find him? I don't know where he is."

Micah didn't answer. Suddenly, everything felt still. Hiro realized that time had stopped again, but he didn't do it.

Just then, he heard a hiss. "Psst! Psst! Hiro!"

Hiro saw a man beckoning him from the shadows. Hiro went passed Micah toward the silhouette. As Hiro came closer, the man walked into a street light. The first thing Hiro saw was a scar across the man's face. Despite it, though, he was recognizable.

"Peter?"

"Thank goodness I found you in time. I have to warn you." He said this in Japanese.

* * *

The sunlight made Gabriel open his eyes. He got up on the side of a dessert road. "No, not again," he thought. The fear and confusion started to set back in. "Hiro?" he called out. "Micah? Madame Sanders?"

"Lost, son?" a voice answered.

Gabriel turned around and saw a man calling out to him from a rather large building. "Oui, monsieur," Gabriel answered.

"Come on in," the man answered. "I know the way."

Gabriel decided maybe it was worth a try. If he was another spy, he'll just walk out again. He gave just a passing look at the marquee, "Odessa Church of Christ, Jack Miller–Minister."

* * *

Hanami's mother tucked her little daughter into bed. "Goodnight, dear," she said with a kiss.

The girl leaned back on her pillow, closed her eyes, and breathed slowly. Her thoughts were going everywhere.

"Hanami?" a voice whispered.

Hanami opened her eyes saw a familiar face standing right over her, the clearer one without the shiny covers over his eyes and the magic stick sprouting out of his back. "Uncle Hiro?"

"Yes, Dear One. I am here."

"Mommy was saying such mean things about you."

"It's ok. She doesn't understand."

"Why won't you just let me do it? I'm ready. This power, it's burning inside of me!"

"I know, Dear One, I know it's hard. It won't be much longer."

"But why do I have to wait?"

"Now, you remember what I taught you."

Hanami nodded. They said it together, "To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose."

"That's right. Now, you've been given this power for a reason. If you use it too early, terrible things may happen."

"But I want to get away. I don't want to wear that kimono. It's uncomfortable."

"You won't wear the kimono. Not yet, anyway."

"Daddy said you're missing again."

"Remember what I told you last time. I'm always with you. We are connected."

The door opened. Mr. Nakamura peered into the room, and he saw little Hanami sound asleep in her bed, alone. "My perfect little nightingale," he whispered. He crept up closer to her, tucked the quilt under her chin, and kissed her forehead. "Sweet dreams," he whispered as he walked out.

* * *

"You're speaking Japanese," Hiro remarked as he followed Peter deeper into the darkness. "Did you meet Gabriel?"

"Hai," Peter nodded.

"Do you know where he is?"

"Around this time, he's probably following the call."

"The call?"

"Gabriel's not the one you need to worry about. It's your niece."

Hiro stopped in shock. "Hanami?"

"Yeah, that's her name."

"What's wrong with her?"

Peter turned and looked at him. "You!"

"What? No, I am a good thing for her."

"You know, I mean the you that you become. You go every night and get into her head. Ever since you lost the case, you've been obsessed with it, trying to fix something that's totaled."

"Case? What do you mean?"

"Things . . . just don't turn out good for her. I keep telling you that the best thing to do is to stop it before it starts. I think you'd listen."

"Do you know about the rainbow around the moon?"

Peter paused and looked off. "Oh yeah. That did happen this year."

Hiro gasped. "When?"

Peter shook his head. "Can't remember. I know the data's in there, but every time I think about it, I just remember the rainbow around Texas. That happened this year too."

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind. Keep your eyes open for it. When it happens, go to her. Maybe you won't be too late."

"What about Gabriel?"

"Look for him in Odessa. As I recall, he went there first before coming to New York."

"Odessa?"

"Yeah, you remember, that's where the cheerleader's from. And when you find him, tell him to see me. He'll be looking for someone, and I'll help him find him. I better go. Good luck." Peter closed his eyes for a moment, vanished, and then everything started again.

* * *

Gavin had been making himself scarce most of the day, but Zack finally caught him at the end of the day. "Hey Gavin. Uh, can I talk to you?"

Gavin slammed him locker shut and turned straight to Zack. "Yeah. Listen, Zachary, I know what you're on about. You think I'm going to make this school into the next Columbine or Virginia Tech or whatever."

"No, no, not on that scale. I'm just worried that you'd hurt–"

"I don't care about that! OK? I don't want to hurt people, and I'm not suicidal. I don't take drugs. I go to Church three times a week. Just because I look a little dark, you think all these terrible things about me!"

"I-I-I'm sorry you feel that way. I just thought you needed a friend."

"You want to be my friend, Zachary? Then stay away from me! Leave me alone!"

Zack fought to find something to say that might turn all of this around, when he heard another voice beside him. "Yeah, Zack, give it up. He's not interested in you."

Zack looked next to him and stared. There she was, in her cheerleading uniform, no trace of what had happened except for a very light red mark on her forehead. "J-J-Jackie?" Zack whispered.

The cheerleader gave him a malicious smile, and Gavin just stared him down. Zack immediately ran down the hall.

To Be Continued . . .


	4. There's a Stirring

Chapter 4: There's a Stirring

Note: "There's a Stirring" is in public domain.

Claire Bennet--Odessa, Texas

Claire was downstairs at the breakfast nook drinking coffee with her right hand and holding a pair rainbow shoelaces in her left hand. Why can't she stop thinking about that little girl?

"Morning, Claire-Bear," a voice said behind her. She looked up and saw her father pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Dad? You're down before Mom and Lyle. That's something I don't see every day."

"Yeah, I was about to say the same about you." His voice turned a little serious, but still fatherly. "You look like you have a lot on your mind. Anything you want to talk about?"

"I'm just thinking about that girl I told you about.

"Oh." He took a sip of his coffee. "Is this about that girl you're doing the service project for?"

"Yeah. I just keep thinking about her. I don't know, I think I might have upset her, and I just wonder how I could bring me into her world, if that makes any sense." She held up the shoelaces. "I got these for her."

He smiled. "Those look cute." He then put his hand on her shoulder and said gently, "I think you'll do fine."

"Yeah. I just have to find her, you know, outside of the school. I wonder if she's related to that preacher, you know, the one we saw on all the flyers?"

"Maybe. Only one to find out." Just then, his cellphone rang. "Excuse me." He went into the other room. "Hello . . . OK, so, what's the deal?"

About at that time, Claire's cell rang. She checked the number and saw it was Zack. "Hey Zack, what's up?" she greeted.

"Claire," he said in an exhausted voice, "I had to talk to somebody. I couldn't sleep last night."

"What is it?"

"The rumors about Gavin are true. He practices black magic."

Claire actually scoffed. She heard that rumor, but she didn't believe it. "What? You're kidding!"

"No! I was talking to him yesterday, and suddenly he was staring at me and Jackie was suddenly talking with us. Somehow, he brought her back from the dead!"

"You sure it's not a girl who looks like Jackie?"

"Positive. She wore the same cheerleader uniform, had that same prissy attitude, implied the same . . . assumptions."

"I don't think it's black magic. I can see him playing D & D every night, but we pass his van every Sunday morning going to Church."

"Maybe his family just forces him to go."

"He eats peanut butter and jelly every day for lunch."

"So?"

"That just didn't strike me as–"

"Hang on." Claire heard a voice in the background. Suddenly, she remembered when Gavin asked her about the paper factory. He might be one of them, just like Peter and Harmony and–

"That was Mom," Zack said. "She said Gavin ran away."

"Zack, I gotta go." She promptly hung up and ran into the other room. "Dad, I think there's–"

"Claire, this call's kinda important. Why don't you go on to school? We'll talk later."

"OK," she said rather reluctantly and backed out.

Bennet got back on the phone and said, "Go ahead . . . Uh-huh. . . . Well, that does make things convenient. Alright, I'll look into it. What's his name? . . . Gabriel . . . No, I won't forget."

* * *

Gabriel Bonhomme–Odessa, Texas 

The way that this guy was talking about wasn't specific direction; it was Christianity. Gabriel tried his best to listen, but it wasn't stuff that he hadn't heard before. He tried to tell this man his predicament, and he wasn't sure if the guy understood or if he believed him. Gabriel didn't have much to add, until he spotted a copy of "Activating Evolution" on this preacher's desk.

"C'est interressant," he mumbled.

"Beg pardon?" the preacher asked.

"I just think it's interesting that a religious man such as yourself is reading a book on evolution."

"Oh yes. Well, I'm just a curious individual. Some things have happened in the past year, and there are all sorts of rumors going around this little town regarding our own citizens. A lot of people here, myself included, are asking questions. If this kind of thing interests you, you might like to know that we're hosting a symposium with Mohinder Suresh."

Gabriel's eyes grew big. "The Nobel nominee?"

"Uh, yeah. I've been reading his books and papers from Mohinder and Chandra, and I am interested in the Christian undertones both of them have. Mohinder, for instance, quoted Ecclesiastes in one of his papers."

"I'd be thrilled to meet him. He changed the world."

The preacher laughed. "I'm not sure I'd say that."

"Yes he did! He's nominated for the Nobel, isn't he?"

"True."

"Sir, can I use your restroom?"

"Oh yes. We have one down the hall in our activity room. Aggies for Christ are doing a devotional in there if you'd like to join them."

"Maybe." He got out of the room quickly and took a deep breath. He walked down the white, empty hall and listened to his steps echo. As he came closer to the activity room, he heard distant singing. It was very soft at first because only the women were singing, but then tenors joined in, and then everybody. As Gabriel got closer, he stopped and stared at the group of young men and women singing together. It sounded very lovely, but something about the song got Gabriel's attention. He felt as though it was speaking to him:

There's a stirring deep within me.

Could it be my time has come

When I see my gracious Savior

Face to face when all is done?

Is that His voice I am hearing,

"Come away, My precious one"?

Is He calling me?

Is He calling me?

* * *

Hanami Nakamura–Tokyo, Japan 

Kimiko was taking her girl to the mall. In the middle of the trip, Hanami pointed and yelled, "RAINBOW!"

"Darling, where did you learn that word?" Mrs. Nakamura asked, but Hanami ran past her to a manikin of a girl with hair pulled in pigtails tied with rainbow ribbons.

"Hmm, that's nice, dear. Now, let's go see about makeup." Hanami kept turning back. It worried her mother.

* * *

Gabriel sat on a pew by himself. That song made him think. He could remember that somebody was calling for him, someone who needed help. But who? And what did they need him to do? 

Something fell by his feet. He picked up a big Lego block. He looked around and saw a girl with red hair sitting on the floor playing Legos just in front of him. She was making a circle of Legos. Each block was a different color, all the colors of the rainbow. And the interesting thing was it was in the exact order that Gabriel learned--red at the top, then orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet. Gabriel cleared his throat. "Excusez-moi," he said softly, but she didn't look up. "La petite" (little girl) he addressed her, but she still didn't acknowledge him. Finally, Gabriel got down from the pew, got on his hands and knees, and crawled toward her just a few paces, and reached out the stray block. She then looked up, leaned over to him, and reached for the block.

In those few seconds, something bizarre happened. Gabriel heard a low hum in his ears. It was as though somebody rang a tuning fork right behind him. Then he looked down at her hand and saw it was glowing red. What was more, his hand was glowing a bright sky blue. It kept getting brighter and brighter as the hands came closer, and the hum grew louder. At the moment the girl took the block, there was a sudden flash of purple light in between their fingers.

Gabriel quickly drew his hand back, and the humming stopped. "Qu'est que-c'est?" he thought.

"Je ne sais pas," a female voice said in his mind.

He looked up at the girl in astonishment. She looked as frightened as he did. Then he saw, just beyond her shoulder a dark-skinned, ominous man walking toward him.

* * *

Primatech Papers Plant–Odessa, Texas 

Candace went in to meet her new boss, and she was completely taken aback who she saw sitting in the office–a kid. "How'd you get in here?"

"He told me the password," the boy said softly, pointing to the office chair. It was turned away from her, but suddenly it spun around to reveal a man with silver hair who was reading a mystery novel.

"Candace," he said with a big smile on his face. "Nice to see you well."

"Thompson?" she said. "Pardon my bluntness, but I thought Bennet blew your brains out."

"Details, my dear, mere details." He put the book down and gestured to the boy. "Now, this young man wants to work for us."

"He's just a kid!"

"He who is not against us is for us, right?"

"But at this stage, aren't we supposed to–"

"No, we can use him," a new voice said behind her.

Candace did a double take. "Bennet?"

"No," he replied with a British accent. "We kinda look alike. It's the glasses, I think." He peered over at the boy. "It's Gavin, right?"

The boy nodded. "Yes sir, Gavin Wright."

* * *

Mr. Nakamura came back from work and gave his wife a kiss. "How was Hanami at the mall today?" 

"She was fine," his wife answered. "She said a new word today–rainbow."

"Oh, how sweet."

"She was pointing to some rainbow hair ribbons."

"Great. That would make a wonderful birthday present for her after the ceremony. She'd look so pretty–"

"MAYONAKA!"

Mr. Nakamura looked cautiously at his wife who was scowling at him. "What's wrong?"

"Think about it. Our little girl is about is about to become a little woman. She needs to be comfortable with uniformity. Rainbow hair ribbons aren't going to be on the dress code."

"But dear–"

"No! We agreed to prepare our daughter for the real world. Don't lose her in a wold of make-believe. That's what Hiro would do." She walked out of the room. Mr. Nakamura looked at his daughter in her room, and he couldn't bring himself to agree with his wife on this one.

* * *

The next thing Gabriel knew, he was strapped into a cot with this eerie light around him. The same dark-skinned man stood over him as well as a pale man with horned rimmed glasses, who didn't look unlike the man Gabriel saw in California. 

"Do not be alarmed," the pale man said slowly. "We just want to ask you a few questions."

"Je ne comprends pas," (I don't understand) Gabriel answered. "Je ne parle pas anglais!" (I don't speak English) He was bewildered that for the first time in so many days, somebody was speaking another language.

The pale man looked over at the dark-skinned man. "Maybe it's best that you step into another room . . . for the moment. I'll let you know when you're needed." The other man nodded and walked out of the room. The pale man now looked at Gabriel. "Me comprenez-vous maintenaut?" (Do you understand me now) he asked.

Gabriel, still very confused, nodded. "Oui, monsieur."

"Tres bien."

There was something about the way this guy talked that was different than the man in California. Gabriel couldn't put his finger on it. Still, there was something about him that he didn't trust.

"So, your name is Gabriel?"

"I don't see what business that is of yours. Unless you're another American spy, and if that is so, I'm not going to talk to you."

"It is my business. As to whether or not I'm an American spy, that's not your business. And you don't have to talk. I have ways of finding out."

"What are you going to do, torture me like Jack Bauer?"

"You know, there is another man named Gabriel. He created quite a stir last year. He was a serial killer, and he nearly blew up New York. Few people know that his real name was Gabriel Gray. He went by the name of Sylar. You heard of him?"

Gabriel turned his head away in disgust.

"We all thought he was dead, but somehow he survived, probably not as strong as he once was but still strong enough. I bet, though, that he has fans, maybe even followers. Because he's a very powerful man. Some would say a power hungry man, but maybe there are a few sick, twisted individuals who may even think he's a messiah."

"So? What does that have to do with me?"

"Oh, I just think it's rather interesting that someone appears out of nowhere from a country that currently does not harbor good feelings regarding this nation, who just so happens to bear this man's same moniker."

Gabriel turned to him again, his eyes wide with fury. "You think I'm a terrorist!"

"Your words, my friend. Your words."

"I know nothing about him. I was named after an angel."

"So was he."

"I don't want to kill anybody! I want to change the world!"

"Sylar thinks he's changing the world."

"I want to win the Nobel!"

"Don't you know that Nobel invented dynamite?"

"Of course I do! I'm not stupid! But I want to do something good. End world hunger. Cure a disease. Make the world better for autistic people!" Suddenly, there was a flash of blue light. For the first time, a plan started coming together in Gabriel's head. For the first time, he knew what to do to make his dream come true.

"That does it," the man said. He knocked on the glass.

"What is it? What did you do?"

The dark skinned man came back in. The pale man gave him an order before he walked out, but he was speaking English again, and Gabriel didn't know what he said. He repeated his question, "QU'AVEZ-VOUS FAIT?"

The dark skinned man came closer. He put a finger to his lips and whispered, "Shh. Pacifez." (Calm down.) And he smiled.

* * *

"So, he's like the kid from 'The Sixth Sense?'" Candace asked. 

"Not exactly," her new boss said. "He doesn't only see dead people. He can make other people see dead people."

"So it's a contagious sixth sense."

"I guess you can say that."

"Well, how's that useful."

"For one thing, as Gavin demonstrated today, he can use them to give him information he wouldn't know otherwise."

"And it sure scares people out of their wits,"Gavin added.

The man laughed and nodded. "I'm sure it does. But the main thing is I believe it could lead us to privileged information. If he chooses the right people to interact with others, they can reveal their deepest secrets. It's a hypothesis, anyway. I'm still thinking it over. And, incidently, he's--" The man whispered something in Candace.

"Oh!" she said. "Why didn't you say so?""

"Uh, there may be a bit of a problem, sir," Gavin said. "I don't really control which people come to me, and I can't make them say what I want them to."

"That's alright, Gavin. You need a little work, and we'll help you. Even if we can't work it out, I am sure you will still be dead useful.

"So, you're saying–?"

"Welcome to the team." The man shook his hand. "Now Candace, why don't you take him home and inform his mother that Gavin has accepted a well-paying internship with the paper company."

"Take me home? Why can't I stay here?"

The man looked at him as if Gavin was clueless. "People will get suspicious. We want you to live as normal a life as we can allow. Come along." He and Candace walked out of the room.

Gavin turned back to the office chair. "I wanted to stay here!" he said annoyed.

"It's alright, Gavin," Thompson replied. "That's the way we do things."

"But I wrote that note to Mom telling her I wasn't sure if I was coming that."

"Yeah. You should have thought that through a bit more," Thompson said carelessly as her turned his chair around again.

* * *

Peter was even more worried about the Piano Man, who seemed to be stuck in a loop, playing "Moonlight Sonata," which is only supposed to be a few minutes long, for twelve hours straight, without stopping. His face looked so pale. Peter tried to offer him food and a place to rest, but he just wouldn't stop. Peter was starting to wonder if he was playing his music to hide from something in his head. 

"If only I knew who he was. If only I could unravel this mystery," Peter whispered to himself. Then a thought occurred to him. Of course, he'd have to have information! Peter ran up and dialed his number.

"Hello?" a voice with a mixture of an Indian and British answered.

"Hi Mohinder, it's me."

"Oh, hello Peter. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Yes. Tell me, how is that list of yours sorted?"

"Oh, the list? By name and location. Why?"

"Does it say anything in that list about potential ability?"

"No. Father merely searched for the evolutionary gene, not necessarily the ability. He felt he'd see that as he studied the people who he found with that gene."

Peter groaned. "Well, it may not work, then."

"What may not work?"

"I have this guy here that I taken in because he had nobody and he needed help. I don't know who he is because he can't talk and he has no ID, but I found him in Central Park playing the piano and he's clearly a piano playing genius.

"That does sound rather familiar, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"2005, a man in Europe appears out of nowhere. He didn't talk, and he shied away from people. When they gave him a pad of paper to write down who he was or where he came from, he drew a picture of a piano. They gave him a piano, and he played classical pieces for hours. People called him a genius and a prodigy and fondly called the Piano Man. Just months later, it was revealed that the whole thing was a hoax. The guy had a sound mind the entire time. He was trying to get some attention."

"Oh, I do kinda remember that! I had no idea it's a hoax. Well, there's one difference with this guy--he has a power that I've been able to emulate."

"What is that?"

"Well, have you ever read 'Harry Potter'?"

Mohinder laughed. "I'm a professor and a serious geneticist. Do you think I have time to read a children's story?"

"It's not a chi–well, that's beside the point. There are these characters in Harry Potter that are called Animagi and Metamorphmag, and they have this branch of magic called transfiguration. It's all about changing into things changing things into other things. That's what he can do."

Mohninder paused. "Do you mean he is . . . a shapeshifter?"

"Yeah, something like that. Oddly enough, I can emulate some of his autistic stuff, too."

"He's . . . autistic, you said?"

"Yeah. I was told he's an autistic savant, like 'Rain Man,' you know."

"Then he won't be on the list."

"What? But, he's gotta be. I mean, he's supernatural."

"I'm not saying that he doesn't have the evolutionary gene. I'm saying he's not on the list. In his case, there's quite a difference."

"What do you mean?"

"It's part of my father's unfinished research. He theorized that the autism gene and the evolutionary gene have a unique interaction. If he would have lived longer, he might have located people like your friend and added them to the list, but . . . he didn't. I was hoping to start that kind of research at the auction, but that didn't go very well."

"Oh yeah. Sorry I didn't make it. I got sidetracked and–"

"It's alright. What happened wasn't your fault.

"Thanks. So there's nothing you can do."

"No, I didn't say that. I could come see him for myself. Perhaps I can bring some more of my father's research to a close."

"Alright, but I'll warn you, he's rather uncomfortable around visitors. He hid from the last one who showed up."

"Don't worry, I'll be careful. It may be a little while before I can make it. I'm writing a speech for a symposium I've been asked to speak at over at a church in Texas. I just want to make sure I don't blow it again."

Peter laughed. "You're not going to blow it."

* * *

Gabriel walked alone in a white hallway. He could see something in front of him, but he couldn't tell what. He walked quickly toward the object while listening to his footsteps echo loudly. As he came closer, he saw it was a person, a woman with long, silky black hair wearing a large straw hat. 

"Bonjour, Gabriel," she said without turning around.

"Bon . . . jour," he replied.

"Comment t'allez vous?"

"Bien, merci. Et vous?"

"Je suis . . . preoccupe." (I am troubled.)

"You're actually speaking it," he said as he came closer to her. "You're not speaking English. You're not butchering the pronunciation. You really are French."

"Actually," the girl said turning around, "I'm Japanese, but you can understand me here."

Gabriel came closer to her and looked at her face. She was about as tall as him, which he knew was unusual about a Japanese lady. Her eyes, though they were still slanted, were also big and lovely. Her silk gown had many vibrant colors and butterflies.

"Vous ette . . . tres . . . belle," (You are very beautiful) he whispered.

"Don't get used to it," she replied. "I'm really more than ten years younger than you."

"I don't understand."

"My name is Hanami Nakamura."

"Nakamura? Are you related to Hiro?"

"He's my uncle. He sent me from the future because here we'll not be in as much danger of time rifts."

"In here?"

"In your mind. You're dreaming, Gabriel."

"So you're not real?"

"No, I am real. I'm here to talk some sense into you."

"Sense into me? What do you mean?"

"Don't you realize what kind of person you have become? Do you see how your proud and bitter attitude hurt those who try to help you? This isn't who you are, Gabriel."

"Well, can I help it? I didn't ask to be in this stupid country!"

"What evidence do you have that this is a stupid country?"

"Their president can't string two words together. They're in a meaningless war. Pretty much all they do right is music, and even that's not as great as it used to be."

"Don't you realize that you're hurting people more than you are helping them, your own brothers and sisters?"

"I don't have brothers or sisters."

"Yes, you do. You have millions of them. I am your sister."

Gabriel looked at her harder. What kind of people were they? How does this relate to him? "What do you mean?"

"I know you, Gabriel. You don't know me yet. You will, but I know you. You want to be a servant of righteousness. You want to be a 'Bonhomme,' a good man."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I want to change the world. Papa always told me that I could if I wanted it badly enough."

"Do you want to change it for better or worse?"

"Better! Bien sur!" (Of course!)

"If you want to change the world for the better, then perhaps you should start with yourself."

"I don't know what you're talking about! I'm fine!"

"Do you know why you came to America, Gabriel?"

"No, I don't! Do you?"

"You came because somebody called you, someone who needs your help."

"Yes, I know. I remember. Who is it?

"You haven't found him, not yet. You have to look for him. I can't tell you much, but I'll say this. If you want to change the world, if you really want to help someone, find the Piano Man."

"Why?"

"You'll find out."

"Who is he?"

"I can't say."

"Where should I go?"

"Follow the call. You'll hear it again. And stay with people who understand your power, like Hiro. They'll help you. Oh yes, this is important." She gave him a hard look, and her eyes filled with tears. "If you need help, for goodness sake, swallow your pride and ask for it!"

"Fine, I will." Hanami nodded and turned to leave. "Wait. Let me thank you first." He reached for her hand to kiss it in a gentlemanly French manner, but as he touched her, he saw a bright green light just between their hands. He gasped and pulled his hand away. Hanami looked at him and gave him a mysterious smile.

He woke up on a pew in the same church building. "L'homme du piano," he whispered. "Qui est l'homme du piano?"

To be continued . . .


	5. Migration

Chapter 5: Migration

Mohinder–Migration is truly one of the mysteries of nature. What sends a flock of birds away? What voice calls them to a new destination? How do they know the way? After years of research, no one is sure of the answers, only that it appears that migration is essential.

Hiro Nakamura--Odessa, Texas

Hiro ran up to the doors of the school, but they were locked. He pounded on the window until a janitor cracked it open.

"I need to see Claire Bennet," Hiro said.

"School's closed," the janitor answered.

"Oh. Sorry," he said with a bow. He backed away and got on the sidewalk. He had to find her house.

* * *

Not too far away, a teenage boy was walking down the sidewalk in a secluded neighborhood. His clothes were dirty, his hair was mess, and his feet were sore, but in his mind was only one question. He kept knocking on doors asking that question and got the same kind of responses every time, usually in the form a door slammed in his face. He didn't know how much more he could take, but he had to get it answered. Finally, he came to a rather small, cozy house at the end of the street and knocked three times. A woman with tangled blonde hair opened.

"Bonjour madame," he said. "Can you please tell me, who is the Piano Man?" And he thought, "And for goodness sake, don't say–"

"Billy Joel?"

He tried very hard to refrain from making a very loud and annoyed groan. But instead he gave a disappointed sigh. "Non, merci madame." He started to turn away.

"Hey wait a minute!" the woman called. "Do you mean a piano repair man?"

He turned toward her. "Uh . . ."

"I can make some calls, find him for you. You look pretty tired. You wanna come in, have a bite to eat, put your feet up?"

"That's alright."

"No, come on! Come on in. I'm sure I can help you some way, honey."

"Very well, if you insist." He came in.

"Make yourself at home–oh! But before you sit on the couch, be careful not to sit on Mr. Muggles!" Gabriel looked underneath him and saw a small, fluffy dog. "'Cause he will not like that." The lady picked the dog up and said in a baby voice, "No I don't! Mr. Muggles does not want to be sat on! No-no-no-no-no!"

"Well, excusez-moi, bien chien," (excuse me, good dog) Gabriel answered as he fluffed the dog's head.

"Oh yes! We haven't been introduced! I'm Sandra Bennet."

"My name is Gabriel."

"Oh, that's a nice name! What's your last name?"

"Bonhomme," he said, but she heard–

"Gabriel Goodman. That's very nice. Well, I made some cookies a few hours ago. You look like skin and bones. How long has it been since you had a good, hot meal?"

"It's . . ." The last meal he could remember was at the Sanders' house, and that felt both a long time ago and very recently. It's been at least a day, and now that he thought about it, he was rather hungry. "It's been a while."

"Oh. We'll all go out to McDonald's tonight."

"Ugh! I don't like McDonald's."

"OK, then we'll go to Dairy Queen and get some DQ Dudes."

"Say what?"

She laughed. "Chicken sandwiches. They're very good."

"You really don't need to go to that trouble, madam. If I could at least find the Piano Man–"

"Right. I'll get on it. Hey, why don't I wash your clothes? You look like you rolled around in the dust a few times. And you can take a shower before my daughter comes back."

Feeling clean again just sounded too inviting. "Very well, but please be careful with the shirt. It's one of the last things I have to remember my father."

"I'll wash it by hand, and I'll be very delicate. OK, the shower's upstairs, just down the hall. You can't miss it. I'll start calling around"

"Merci." Gabriel started going up the stairs.

Mrs. Bennet ran to the kitchen, looked up a number in the phone book and dialed it. She said in a voice above a whisper, "Hello, homeless shelter? Are you missing a teenage boy named Gabriel Goodman?"

As he walked up the stairs, Gabriel looked up at the family pictures. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the father. "Lui," (him) he whispered. He thought for a moment about making a run for it, but then he decided that it would better to find out all he can about this man–spy on the spy.

* * *

Peter Petrelli–New York

Peter was pretty much just going about his business in the morning as Piano Man continued to play, when he voice that made him jump. "Music. Soother of the savage beast." Peter turned and saw Claude sitting on his couch. "Sounds like you got quite a prodigy."

"What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too, mate, in one piece I might add."

"That's not funny."

"To be quite honest, I'm worried about you."

"You? Worried about me?"

"You haven't been out in days. That's not like you; you're a people person. I'll probably never understand why, but regardless, if you wall yourself up like this, it's not good. I mean, we all know what happens when you got everything bottled up."

"I didn't even know you were in New York any more."

"What can I say? I have a habit of appearing out of nowhere when you least expect me. So what's up, mate?"

"What can I do? I'm taking care of an autistic man who won't stop playing the piano. It's a 24/7 job. I've been trying to find where he's from or who his family is, but I'm coming up empty!"

"Have you tried using your powers?"

Peter sighed and turned away.

"You know you could."

"I thought about it. I don't know if it's a smart idea. I mean, I don't want to hurt him or make him feel uncomfortable."

"So? It won't be the end of the world, this time."

Peter sighed again. He knew Claude wouldn't leave him alone until he did something. "I guess I could try it."

So he went into the other room. Peter walked up right behind the Piano Man, and he closed his eyes. "Matt," he thought. He remembered the day they first met, when Peter complained about a headache and Matt tossed him a bottle of pills. He didn't have to do that. Just after that, he heard Matt's voice inside his head. That was all it took. Then he remembered when Sylar caused those bullet Matt fired at him to hit Matt, and the power started to drifted. "Come on, don't think about that!" Peter thought. He took a few deep breaths and looked at the back of the Piano Man's head.

"It's not working."

"Are you sure?" Claude asked. "Maybe you're not trying hard enough."

"It's not that. It's . . . his thoughts don't make any sense. It sounds like gibberish."

"Perhaps you're going in too deep. Move up to conscious thought."

Peter shook his head. "It's no good. Guess you gotta know how to speak autism."

"OK then, you can't read his mind. What else can you do?"

He thought of a power that might work. "I need to get some paint."

* * *

Gabriel came out of the bathroom. He had just finished a shower, and he got dressed in some sweat pants and an old t-shirt Mrs. Bennet provided for him. He was moving rather stealthily toward the Master Bedroom when he heard another female voice talking to Mrs. Bennet.

"I was out doing a personal errand."

"Oh. Well, how's your homework looking?"

"Uh! I have a big test tomorrow! Mom, can you help me study?"

"Oh, sorry, Claire, I got some business to take care of. Why don't you get Lyle to help you?"

"No, I've tried studying with him before. He just asks me how to pronounce each word, and that kinda defeats the point."

Gabriel started toward the kitchen. It would probably be enough to offer his help to pay back for the hospitality. The ladies were talking a lot softer, so they were probably talking about him. He had a feeling Madame Bennet wouldn't be too comfortable with him being around her daughter. Yet he looked into the kitchen rather meekly.

"Oh Gabriel!" Mrs. Bennet said. "Do you need something, sweetie?"

"Non, madame," he answered. He looked at the daughter. "I hear that you need help with your studying. What is your test about?"

The girl grumbled in response, "It's in French."

Gabriel's eyes lit up.

* * *

Hanami Nakamura–Tokyo, Japan

It was night in Japan, and Hanami had some free time to play video games. Her father came in. "Hello, my little nightingale," he said. "Here, I have an early birthday present for you."

She paused her game as he came over. Without a word, she opened the package, and her eyes grew wide. "Rainbow!"

"Yes," her father answered. He got her the hair ribbons she admired. He started putting the ribbons in her pigtails. "I know how your mother feels about these, but I think you should have them. You're only a child for so long. Now, tomorrow is a big day. You'll be six years old, and you'll be wearing that very pretty, silk kimono and make up, just like Mommy. You'll look like a beautiful doll, like a little woman. Soon, you will be a woman. And all of your family will be here to see how pretty you look. You're grandfather will come and–"

"Uncle Hiro?"

"I hope so. And you'll meet a very special man who will be with you for a long time, almost like a teacher, and . . ." Mr. Nakamura paused and blinked back tears. Just thinking about that part reminded him of how long this will take and how hard it will be for her. "I'll let you wear these ribbons tonight, and we'll go out and watch the fireworks. Will that be good?"

"Yes."

He finished putting the bows in and looked at her. "You look very beautiful already." He walked out of the room.

Before Hanami returned to her game, she looked out the window. The moon was very pretty tonight, and round.

* * *

It was surreal helping an American study a French vocabulary test. Mrs. Bennet let them study in Claire's room, as long as she kept the door open. Gabriel felt like Claire was just repeating everything he said, and he kept thinking if he were taking this test, it would be a cake walk. It really felt weird on those few words she struggled on. The one thing he could see to correct was pronunciation.

"No, round out your mouth a little," he'd say, or, "It's a little more nasal than that."

Late in the list when he corrected her, Claire said, "Look, this isn't an oral exam. I'm not being tested on pronunciation. It's matching and multiple choice!"

"If you want to learn French, you have to learn how to say it right."

"Why?"

"You are a very pretty girl. One day, someone is going to ask to marry you, and you will have your honeymoon in Paris, and the locals will not take you seriously because you speak French with a Texan accent. Then what?"

Claire giggled. "What makes you think I'm going to have my honeymoon in Paris?"

"They say all lovers must go to Paris. It's a rule."

"Are you flirting with me?"

"No. I barely know how to flirt."

Claire giggled again, and Gabriel marveled. She took that as a compliment? The world is strange.

"I almost went to Paris last year with my grandmother, but I decided to stay in New York. I didn't know a word of French. That's why I'm taking it now, in case I have another opportunity."

"You decided to stay in New York?"

"Yeah, I have family there."

This would be a good time to ask. "What can you tell me about your dad."

"He's . . . a salesman."

"Oh." He thought for a moment that maybe he had the wrong guy, but then he thought maybe that job is a facade. Well, this girl is probably the wrong person to ask.

"Well, actually . . ."

Gabriel turned around to her sharply, expecting her to say something closer to his true nature, but instead she said–

"He's not my real father."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I was adopted. It's a long story. I found my mother last year, and she found my father. I would have stayed with one of them, but . . . well, things didn't work out. She can't support me, and he . . . well . . ."

"He died?"

"I don't really know. He disappeared. He did this whole heroic act to save New York, and I never saw him again. I don't really see how he could have survived." She flipped her hair. " Besides, I couldn't just leave the family I lived my whole life with."

"Well, consider yourself fortunate. At least you're not alone." He sighed. "I know what it's like to lose a father. I thought my father was the smartest man in the world. He taught literature at the university. He was a world-renowned expert on Victor Hugo. I may have been the only one who knew his true interest in Pink Floyd. He had all the records, the movies, lots of memorabilia. He liked to analyze their lyrics, go to concerts regularly. I didn't like Pink Floyd. Maybe I was rebelling, but I always thought they were too weird. So when I was 13, when Papa went to a big reunion concert, I spent the night with a friend." Gabriel's voice started to break up. "He never came back. Some other concert goer who was drunk or stoned or something collided right into his car. Killed them both. He was gone, just like that."

"Wow. That's awful. What about your mom?"

"She died when I was a baby. Dad never really told me why. I guess it was too hard for him. Maybe he was waiting for the right time, when I was old enough, but when it came he was gone."

"So you were adopted too?"

"I had an aunt and uncle who raised me through lycele" (high school).

"You're not in high school anymore?"

"No, I started at the university."

"Wow, college student already. You must be smart."

Gabriel really wanted to change the subject. He thought about asking her; though it's a long shot it was worth a try. "Do you know who the Piano Man is?"

"Uh . . . well," Claire giggled again, "I know a song called 'Piano Man.'"

Gabriel pounded on the wall. "Not Billy Joel again!"

"Oh, is that who sings it? I don't know, it was before my time. I'm sorry, I don't know anything. Although . . ." She reached into a drawer and pulled out a small set of wind chimes. "I know someone who might."

* * *

Peter took a deep breath and looked at the large sheet of paper before him. "Isaac," he thought. He remembered that first day when he saw Isaac on the floor whispering, "We have to stop it!" He remembered Isaac's pictures of the cheerleader and how Peter first saw a shadowy picture and was able to complete Isaac's vision. He tried not to think about Isaac's tragic death. As he was thinking, Peter started seeing a blur on the paper. "Good, it's working." He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were glazed over. He picked up a brush and started getting to work.

* * *

Claire and Gabriel walked to an abandoned oil rig. "We need to be quiet," Claire whispered. "He doesn't want attention drawn to himself."

"Pardon?" Gabriel asked. But then he glimpsed a dark-skinned man watching them. Gabriel lunged at him, and Claire held him back. "C'est vous! C'est vous!"

"Why are you talking in French? We're not studying for the test anymore."

Gabriel just stared at her. He wasn't sure what she said.

"It is as I feared," the man said. "Your father will not like this."

"Well, it's not my fault that–"

"You are not at fault, Claire. It is something I have done."

"QU'AVEZ-VOUS FAIT?" Gabriel demanded.

"Pacifez," the man answered.

Gabriel started to back off. "Vous parlez francais?"

"Oui. Je suis du Haiti."

"Alors pourquoi etes-vous ici?" (Then why are you here?)

The man ignored him and looked at Claire. "Why did you bring him here?"

"He had a question, something about a Piano Man. Do you know anything?"

He shook his head. "I do not know. I am sorry." He looked back at the boy. "Gabriel, I took something from you."

"Qu'est que c'est?"

"It is something you have wanted all your life. It hurt me to take it from you, but I had orders. And I am sad to say that I cannot give it back. I can only assure you that you will find it again."

"But what is it?"

The man came forward and touched his head. "I should try again to take what's left, but you may need it." He took his hand away. "Yet I'll leave you with this advice--trust Claire's father."

"Why should I? He's a spy. He thinks I'm–"

"His information is not entirely correct, but rest assured, he's trying to protect you."

"From what?"

The man looked back Claire. "I must go. I am sorry I could not answer your question."

"Alright. Thanks anyway," she answered.

As the man started to walk away, the kids walked off in the other direction. Gabriel turned to Claire. "What was that about?"

"Oh, so now you're speaking English again? What was with all the French?"

"Isn't it obvious? I am French! Why do you think I am speaking to you with this outrageous accent?"

"Accent? You were going on about me speaking French with an accent when yours is worse than mine. You reek of Texas!"

"Ferme la bouche (shut up), you little hussy!" He immediately regretted the words after saying it.

Claire looked at him in shock and disappointment. "What did you just call me?"

"Never mind. Who was that man? Is he a plant?"

"He works for my father. He knows things."

"What did he take from me?"

Claire sighed and stood still. She didn't want to help him after he called her such an insult, but he probably needed to know. "He took some of your memories."

"What?"

"That's what he does. I can't tell you when or why."

"Listen, let's stop pretending. We both know your father is a spy. Tell me everything about him."

"I can't. I'm not supposed to remember."

Gabriel grabbed her arm. "I gotta know something. That man who's acting as your father thinks that I'm a terrorist! He thinks I murder people! That's the last thing I want to do. Don't you understand? I–"

Just then, the cellphone rang. Claire tore her arm away. "Hello? . . . Oh, Mom. Yeah, I was just coming back home . . . Really? . . . OK, I'll be right there. Bye." She hung up the phone. She lowered her voice. "Listen, the truth is I'm in danger. There's some people looking for me because of some stuff that I can do. Dad's trying to protect me from them. Lately, he's been looking for people who might be associated with a dangerous man, and I guess for some reason your name came up. Look, we'll talk about this more later. Right now, we got something else to turn our attention to."

"What?"

"Mom just said that an Asian man was here looking for me, and if it's who I think it is, he can probably help you find your Piano Man."

* * *

Peter stared at the picture he just finished painting–a teenage boy in a black t-shirt laying on a park bench surrounded by white feathers. Well, at least he had somebody, but when and how was he, Peter, going to find him? What did it mean?

"I like him already," Claude said behind him. "Pink Floyd fan."

Peter jumped and nearly smeared the paint. "How long have you been here?"

"Sorry, mate. I just came back because I thought of something that might help you."

"What's that?"

"I was just thinking about what you said, that you need to speak autism to understand Mozart's thoughts down there."

"Yeah? What about it?"

"Well, you can, mate! You're an empath, remember? All you need to do is empathize."

Peter opened the door and looked into the other room, thinking about what Claude said. "Empathize?"

* * *

"Hanami, you want to go see fireworks?" the mother called down.

Hanami was half-asleep, but the call woke her up instantly. "Yes!" She came down. Her father waited for her, then he took her down to the car. But just as he was unlocking it, Hanami pointed up to the sky. "Rainbow!"

"Sweetheart, it's too dark for--" Mr. Nakamura looked up to the sky and saw a full rainbow circling around the moon. He marveled in every word of awe in the Japanese language. "I need to send this to the paper! This will make international news!" He started running back to the house to get a good camera, but first he patted Hanami's shoulder. "Make a wish," he said softly. "The rabbit in the moon will grant it for you."

"Mayonaka, don't fill her mind with such nonsense," Mrs. Nakamura scoffed.

But Hanami was making a wish, and if Uncle Hiro was telling the truth, she knew it would be granted.

* * *

"Good thing you're here, hon," Mrs. Bennet as Claire came back. "I didn't know what else to say to that guy. Get this, he said he met you in New York. You've never been to New York!"

"Oh. Uh, he means New York Café. That's what they call Starbucks in Japan."

"Oh. OK." As Gabriel came in, Mrs. Bennet said, "I'm almost done washing your shirt, honey. Now, I think I got in touch with someone who can help you."

"They know the Piano Man?"

"Well . . . trust me, they'll help you."

"Merci, madame."

Claire gestured to Gabriel, and he followed her into the sitting room. Gabriel recognized him right away. Claire said, "It's been a while since I've seen you. What happened?"

"It's a long story. I was hoping you saw somebody named–" Then he saw Gabriel walk in. "Gabriel!" Hiro ran over and threw his arms around the boy. Gabriel nervously laughed. People in France usually get this close often, and Gabriel was one of the few who wasn't completely comfortable with it. Hiro pulled away. "Are you alright?"

"I think so. What are you doing out here?"

"Micah said it was ok. He didn't need us anymore."

"Hey, wait a minute. We didn't go there to help Micah. We went so that Micah could help us, remember?"

"Who can say why we really went there? Who can say why I didn't quite make it to Las Vegas on my first time and I met you? Only destiny knows."

Gabriel scoffed. "Destiny. The only destiny that exists, my friend, is probability."

"I don't think so."

"Hey wait a minute," Claire interrupted. She pointed at Gabriel. "You know Japanese too? What are you, a linguist?"

Hiro looked at Gabriel and said in Japanese, "You didn't tell her?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"She never asked."

Hiro turned back to Claire and said in English, "He can translate any language in his head in an instant."

"I didn't realize you could . . . so that's how you could speak French so well," Claire said to Gabriel.

"Actually, I am from France," Gabriel answered. "It's complicated."

And Hiro whispered, "And that's not all that he can do."

Claire whispered back, "Why don't we go up to my room, out of earshot from Mom?" The other two nodded and followed her up. Claire didn't close the door, but she kept it cracked. "So, what other power do you have?" she asked Gabriel

"I don't have a power. I'm just very, very smart. I don't know why my brain is automatically translating every language I hear, but I'm sure there's a rational explanation."

"Oh, but you do have a power," Hiro answered. "I saw it. You have super speed."

Gabriel laughed.

"It's true! In the casino, when you passed out, I stopped time so that I could get you out of the casino because I thought your senses overloaded like you said. But you woke up and got up and moved. You moved against time! And when time started back up again, I couldn't find you because you already left. You weren't just sleepwalking. You were sleep-running."

"I was? And that's how I got here?" Gabriel sat down and thought aloud. "Let's see. I was doing karaoke, and the slot machines went off and it scared me, and then . . . oh, I can't remember much. Wait, somebody was calling for help."

"Really? I didn't hear anybody."

"Oh, the call! I was going about this all wrong! I shouldn't go around and ask people about this Piano Man, I need to wait for him to call!"

"Piano Man? What are you talking about?"

"Hiro, we have to find the Piano Man. I had a dream and . . . somebody from the future told me I had to find him. She said he's the one who's been calling me, the one who made me sleepwalk, or sleeprun. She said if I found him, I could change the world. But I've been asking around, and the only Piano Man anybody talks about is Billy Joel, and he can't be it."

"Oh! I think I know! He's in New York!"

"Don't tell me you think he's Billy Joel too!"

"No. A friend of mine, Peter Petrelli, came to see me after you disappeared. He wanted you to go see him, and he can help you find the one you're looking for. He's in New York."

"Sounds good. We have something to go on."

"We have our mission." Hiro held his hands above his head and shouted, "SAVE THE PIANO MAN, SAVE THE WORLD!"

"Wait, she didn't say anything about saving him, just finding him."

"Well . . . maybe he's in prison, and we have to get him out. Maybe he's falsely accused. Maybe he–"

"Hey guys," Claire spoke up. "You mind cluing me in?"

"Huh?" Gabriel said.

"You were both just jabbering in Japanese."

"We must have lapsed into it without realizing it," Hiro said. So they explained to her the situation in English.

"Well, Peter would probably be the best guy to talk to. He'd be really willing to help." She decided not to tell him just yet that he was her uncle. She told him too much already.

"How are we going to get down there? I doubt we're going to find another friendly trucker who'll let us hitchhike," Gabriel said.

"We'll take a bus," Hiro answered.

"Uh, Hiro, don't you remember? Neither one of us has any money."

Hiro answered by digging into his pocket. He put into Gabriel's hand a hundred dollar bill.

"Where did you get this?"

"Nikki and Micah gave it to us. They said it was our share for helping them. I just hope it's not illegal money."

"What did you guys decide?" Claire asked.

"We did it again," Gabriel sighed. He looked at her. "We're going to take a bus to New York."

"Do you want to come?" Hiro asked.

"I don't think I can. Mom and Dad will start asking questions." She then whispered to Gabriel, "But you better go quick. Mom told me she was trying to put you in a homeless shelter."

"What?" Gabriel said.

"She really doesn't understand about us. I'll get your clothes. I think you should just change and get out." So she snuck out of the room and came back with his clothes. "They're still kinda wet, but at least they're clean."

Gabriel changed in the bathroom, and Claire helped them go out the back way. "Merci," he said. "And I am sorry about the hussy comment. I wasn't thinking."

"Oh, it's ok. I've been called worse. You better go. Good luck!" So Hiro and Gabriel ran on.

* * *

Peter felt absolutely defeated. He had a face now, but when would he see it? And in New York, in Central Park, there's no telling where or when he could find this guy. He looked at the Piano Man. Claude may have been on to something. Empathy. But how could he empathize with an autistic? Peter couldn't go an hour, not even half an hour without talking. He can never understand all the sensory stuff they go through. And there's no way they can open to him. Well, he can try somehow.

He tried again to look into the Piano's Man's eyes. "Piano Man, I'm sorry. I don't know if I'll ever find your family. I wish you could give me some kind of hint, but . . ." He sighed and bowed his head.

Then, for the first time in days, the Piano Man took his hands off the keys. He got up from the little piano bench and walked up to the window. And then, for the first time Peter ever saw, the Piano Man made a sound–a lonely, high-pitched, inner wail. Peter didn't need to empathize with him here. He knew he was crying.

* * *

Hiro and Gabriel got on a bus heading for New York. The driver was playing a radio, one of those Jack FM stations. "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" by U2 hummed through the speakers.

"Idealistic fool," Gabriel muttered.

"What?" Hiro asked.

"Bono. He's pretty much trying to make the impossible happen. But I suppose if I want to change the world, I have to be an idealistic fool too."

"Why are you so particular with that word?"

"What word?"

"'Change.' Why do you say 'change the world' and not 'save the world?'"

"Because that's impossible. There's always going to be poverty, war, and hate. We can't stop that. We can just hope to minimize it a little."

"A hero's usually more of an optimist than that. Don't you want to be a hero?"

"I want to win the Nobel. Do you have to be a hero to win the Nobel?"

"I don't know. I guess so."

They didn't talk for a while, but Gabriel suddenly broke the silence, "I don't understand. If the Piano Man is all the way over in New York, why did I find myself first in Los Angeles, on the other side of the country? Wouldn't it have been easier if I appeared in New York?"

"Maybe, but there's a reason for this," Hiro answered.

"What could that be?"

"Well, it's like my adventure last year. I knew the danger was in New York, but the manga I got in the future said I had to go to Las Vegas first. I didn't know why because the issue ended before it said. If I didn't, I wouldn't have been able to save Micah's father. Of course, I wouldn't have met Charley either. But perhaps most of all, I changed as a person. I grew in HP, MP, and EXP."

"Huh?"

"Oh, sorry. I forgot you don't play video games. I mean I became stronger and wiser, and my English improved. I learned more about my power, found a magic sword, and became better prepared to save New York. Now, think about your journey. If you appeared in New York first, you wouldn't have met me or Micah or Claire. And you're changing too."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. You're getting a better handle on your powers, and you're becoming more like a hero."

Gabriel shook his head. For the first time, he felt sad and ashamed. "I don't feel like much has happened. I don't feel like I've changed."

Hiro patted Gabriel's arm. "Trust me, you have."

Gabriel smiled. "Merci. That means a lot to me."

"But you know what I don't understand? Why you said the person in your dream was a she. Are you sure it wasn't a man?"

"Not only that I–just how common is the name Nakamura?"

"Well, there's a big tycoon named Nakamura. People sometimes try to capitalize on that. Why?"

"Because her last name was Nakamura. I wonder if she's related to you."

"What's her first name?"

"Hanami."

"She came from the future? She can speak?"

Gabriel nodded. "She was the most beautiful creature I've ever seen."

Hiro chuckled uncomfortably at that. It was just weird that he heard this about his family. "Uh, we are related."

"Oh."

"But how did she . . . ? Time travel isn't her power. She does have one, but . . ."

"She said that you sent her."

"I haven't done that before. Maybe I figure it out."

Gabriel leaned his head back. "So . . . something really did happen last year in New York. It wasn't just speculation."

"Yes."

"Sometime, you're going to have to tell me all about it."

* * *

Mr. Bennet came home that evening. He gave his wife a kiss. "How was your day, honey?"

"Well, it was unusual. There was a boy here this afternoon. He looked like he was homeless and maybe a little mentally affected. I don't know the right word for that now. I gave him a little food, let him take a shower, washed his clothes. I got in touch with someone from the homeless shelter, and they're sending a van, should be here around 6:00. His name's Gabriel."

Mr. Bennet looked a little concerned. "Gabriel? Did he tell you his last name?"

"I think it was Goodman."

"Goodman?" He frowned and walked off by himself. He pulled something out of his pocket that looked like a cellphone. He looked closely at the screen and saw a small flashing light on a map. "Well, at least it's still working." He pocketed it. "Hey Claire!" he called into the next room.

"Yeah Dad?"

"Did you see this strange boy your Mom's talking about?"

"We didn't do anything, Dad."

"Claire," he said in a strict tone.

"Yeah, I saw him. He helped me study for my French vocabulary test. He's really good. The school needs to hire him as a tutor."

"Hmmm," Mr. Bennet replied. He pulled another gadget out of his pocket (this time it really was a cellphone) and walked to his office. "I need you to come over as soon as possible. Something's come up, and we need to take Sandra's memories . . . No, we'll work on Claire's later, after she takes a test . . . More than likely tomorrow afternoon . . . I think the French boy was here. Remember him? The one you had trouble with? . . . Yeah . . . OK, then, I'll see you." He hung up and sighed in frustration.

* * *

Late in the night, she heard a gentle call above her that beckoned her from her dreams, "Hanami. Hanami. Hanami." She slowly opened her eyes and saw a familiar face standing right over her. He was smiling.

"Uncle Hiro!" she cried, sitting up to give him a hug.

"Shh!" he whispered.

"Time?" she asked.

"Yes, my dear one, it is time." Hanami's eyes grew very big, and she smiled eagerly. "Now, you remember what you're looking for, right?"

"Ye–" But then she stopped. "Uncle Hiro, how will I know?"

"I can't tell you," he whispered, "but you'll know when you find them. Just trust me." Hiro held out his hand to her. "Don't be afraid."

"I am not afraid," she said as she took his hand.

* * *

Peter found the Piano Man sleeping on the couch. It didn't look like the empathy worked, but at least now he knew he had to rest. Peter wrapped a blanket around him. "Sleep well," he whispered. Then he went to bed himself.

* * *

Gabriel was also starting to feel tired. He stared outside. There was a lovely sunset. Seemed to be every color of the rainbow and then some out there. Pink Floyd's "Learning to Fly" came on the radio. Gabriel leaned his head against the glass and started dreaming.

He was driving a car through the French countryside. A young woman sat beside him. The same song played loudly on the speakers. "That was the most amazing concert I've ever been to," she said. "All the lasers and smoke and the musicཀ I'll never see Pink Floyd the same way again."

"Now, Allison, what do you think about the songs? Did you try to analyze them?"

"Well, yes, I have some ideas."

The started debating the possible meanings of the song on the radio. Suddenly, the girl yelled, "LOOK OUT!" A Corvette was driving erratically right toward them Gabriel tried to swerve out of the way, but it was too late. He heard a loud crash.

The next he knew, he saw through blurry vision a white, sterile, cold room. A man with horned rimmed glasses smiled down on him. "Who are you?" Gabriel asked weakly.

"We're going to do some tests. I need for you to relax, Mr. Bonhomme."

Gabriel suddenly felt a sharp pain in his side, and he screamed.

He was screaming in real life, too. "Gabriel?" Hiro said. "Gabriel, what's wrong?"

"Aidez! Arretez! (Stop!)" Gabriel kept screaming.

"Gabriel, it's ok. I'm here." Hiro pulled on his arm trying to wake him up, but then Gabriel turned toward him and opened his eyes. They looked just like they did at that moment in the casino. "Gabriel? He's calling you again, isn't he? The Piano Man?" Hiro held Gabriel's shoulder. "Don't worry, my friend. This time, I'm coming with you."

Gabriel's dream was changing. He heard Hiro's words and felt his hand squeeze his shoulder. Gabriel turned around in his dream and saw them there. Hiro curtly nodded, then closed his eyes and concentrated really hard. Gabriel turned forward and saw that green light in the distance again. "I'm going to make it there this time," Gabriel thought. He started running. Hiro was doing his best to hold on. All around him, Gabriel heard frantic piano music and voices calling for help. Gabriel just kept his eyes on the light and kept running. He was getting closer, almost there–

Then suddenly, a shadowy figure stepped in front of him. Gabriel lost his balance at such a surprise and fell. The fall woke him up.

"Are you OK?" Hiro said as he helped him sit up.

"Oh, Hiro, I had such a terrible dream. For the first time I years, I dreamed about how my . . ." Suddenly, he noticed that he was sitting on pavement. "Hiro, why aren't we on the bus?"

Hiro smiled and grabbed Gabriel's shoulder again. "Because we're here!" He gave a swooping gesture with his arm. Gabriel looked around and saw that they were in Times Square.

"But how . . .?"

"He called to you again, the Piano Man. You sleep-ran again last night. I bent time just enough so that I could keep up. Now, can you say, 'Yatta'?"

"I did what?"

"Alright, I'll say it for you." He threw his arms open. "YATTA! HELLO NEW YORK!"

Mohinder–Migration appears to be essential. Species who migrate seek a place of safety and renewal. Yet even when they find such a place, they are not guaranteed safety from the predator.

Hiro and Gabriel didn't know they were being watched by a figure in the shadows. He had been hiding for a long time, and he was hungry. He could see Gabriel's power glowing in his brain. He could make it his.

To be continued . . .


	6. Stalked

Chapter 6: Stalked

Peter Petrelli–New York

Peter woke up hyperventilating. Once he realized it was a dream, he lay back down. His throat and head felt sore. There was just one bit of hope hanging over his head. He looked over in the corner of the room of his painting of the boy. Just outside the door, he could hear the piano music. There was something about it this time. It sounded more contemporary, sorta familiar. It took a while to recognize it as the theme of "The Exorcist."

He got up and went into the other room. "You look a little better after getting some rest."

The Piano Man, of course, didn't respond.

"Listen," Peter said. "I have a feeling, kinda intuition, I guess, that someone is looking for you. And I want you to know that I'm going to find him. I don't know who he is, but he may be the missing piece of the puzzle."

Piano Man pushed on the pedals to make the music louder. A tear started trickling from his eye.

"Well, that's gratitude for ya," a voice said behind him.

Peter turned around and saw Claude. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"'Cause the look on your face never gets old."

"Come here." They went into Peter's room. "One of us is going to have to find this kid, and one of us is going to have to stay here with the Piano Man."

"What are you telling this to me for? It's not like you need a rocket scientist to solve this dilemma."

"Because I think you should go out looking for him."

"What? Are you off your rocker?"

"A couple of reasons. For one thing, I'm not feeling great. My throat is on fire."

"Oh, you don't know? You're not sick, mate. Last night, you were screaming in your sleep. I saw a lot of angry tenants pounding at your door, but I guess you slept through that too."

"I do kinda remember having a nightmare. But anyway, I'm also getting paid to watch this guy. He's my responsibility. I can't leave him alone, and if you're here, it will appear that he is alone."

"That's kinda how it appears now, isn't it, mate?"

"Yeah, but I am here now. OK, this looks like Central Park. Not sure where. Maybe that's the same bench where I was sitting when I found him."

"OK, so you want me to stand by this bench until this kid shows up and bring him here?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Alright, fine and dandy. Oh, but there's one little snag in your plan. Bit of an oversight maybe–HE CAN'T SEE ME!"

"But I'm sure he can still hear you. You can just talk to him for a little bit."

"Well, the thing with that is, it freaks people out. They don't want to look like they're talking to nobody, unless their out of their minds or have one of those Bluetooth things."

"Well, one thing I've learned about you is, you like freaking people out."

* * *

Hiro Nakamura and Gabriel Bonhomme–New York

Hiro and Gabriel went to the little coffee shop that boasted the "World's Best Cup of Coffee." Gabriel took one sip. "I tasted much better coffee in France. That's false advertising."

"It all tastes the same to me," Hiro said. "I never liked coffee that much."

"You boys ready to order?" a waitress asked.

"I will have waffles, please," Hiro said.

"Do you want plain, blueberry, or chocolate chip?"

"Ooh, chocolate!" Hiro said excitedly.

"Ok. And you, sir?" she addressed Gabriel.

"Do you have une tarte aux fruits?"

"A tart with fruit? Do you mean a Pop Tart?"

"Uh, I doubt it. I'll have an omelette with everything but onions."

"There are onions in the salsa."

"That's alright."

"OK. I'll be back in a little bit."

Gabriel took another sip. A crazy question crossed his mind. He looked out the window thinking about it.

"Is something wrong?" Hiro asked.

Gabriel sigh, deciding he should probably go ahead and ask. "Hiro?"

"Yes?"

"When I am old enough, can you send me to the future?"

"I've . . . never done that before. But I probably can try. Why?"

"I think I'm infatuated with Hanami. But she said she was from the future and her present self is over 10 years younger than me. That means she's just a child."

"A very small child," Hiro replied softly.

"Yes. So when I'm old enough, I want to go to the future to when she's around my age, and I want to marry her. Can you do that for me please? It would mean so much to me."

Hiro looked down. "I'm sorry, Gabriel. I don't think my powers work that way."

"Well, they have to! I mean, the future you had to have sent her somehow!"

"No, I don't mean that. You can cause a rift in the time space continuum."

"I don't see what the problem is! You send me to the future, I'll marry, I'll have a family, and I'll never come back! Something I certainly can't do in the present."

"You'll live in France with her?"

"I'd like to. But I'll marry in Japan, or perhaps even America if she wants to."

"I can't do that. Gabriel, the time space continuum is a very delicate thing. Just one little change, and it falls apart."

"Hiro, that's just silly."

"No, it's not! Gabriel, you're my friend, and I do want to help, but I can't do that."

Gabriel sighed very loudly and bowed his head. Hiro gave a small smile and said quietly, "On the bright side, you can be her first real friend besides me. That could be really good."

"I've had a lot of friends, Hiro."

"True, but she hasn't." Hiro sighed and said, "You'll find somebody else." And he said in the best French accent he could manage, "Isn't Par-ee the city of love? There's gotta be boatloads of beautiful women out there!"

"There is, but . . . none of them care about me. Except maybe Georgette, but I think she already has bon ami (boyfriend)."

"I can't really help. I've been so wrapped up in comics and video games all my life, I haven't had much times for girls. And the one girl I did have time for died."

"Has it been lonely?"

"Sometimes it is. But since I became a hero, it hasn't been so lonely anymore. Nothing feels better than helping people, saving lives."

Gabriel nodded. "You're probably right." He knew this wasn't going to get anywhere, so he let the subject drop. He looked around the café as he took another sip of his coffee. He noticed someone reading a paper, and he saw a picture on the back of the living section. "Hiro! Hiro! Regardez!" (Look!) Gabriel said as he tugged on Hiro's sleeve.

"What?"

Gabriel pointed. "It's a rainbow around the moon! Just like what you asked Micah about!"

Hiro's eyes grew wide, and his face was fearful. "Oh no," he said softly.

Gabriel didn't notice. "The headline even said the picture was shot in Japan, your home! Oh, I'm sorry you missed it, but we can get the paper and–"

But then he saw Hiro's expression. "Oh no!" Hiro said louder.

"What's wrong?" Gabriel said.

"Gabriel, I have to leave."

"Leave? How can you leave now? We're so close!"

"I know. Oh, this is the second time I missed it! I missed saving the cheerleader, and now I'll miss saving the Piano Man."

"FINDING the Piano Man," Gabriel corrected.

"Yes. I don't want to miss it, but you must understand. She may be in trouble. I have to go!"

"I don't understand."

"I probably should tell you. The rainbow around the moon was the sign I was waiting for. I'm already late. I have to go back to before it happened. Oh, I hope I can do it!"

Gabriel still didn't get it. "Well, you'll come back when it's over, right?"

Hiro looked down. "I'll try, but I don't know, Gabriel. I have to spend important time with Hanami. It may take a very long time." He looked up again. "I'm going to help turn her into the woman you saw in your dream."

That was what Gabriel needed to hear. He put his hands on Hiro's arms. "Then bon voyage, mon ami."

Hiro bowed and pulled out his cellphone. "Peter's number's in here. After breakfast, you can find it and give him a call."

"Are you sure that's ok? Giving me your cellphone?"

"I don't think I'll need it. That will remind you that I will come back. I made a promise to her that I would take her to meet my American friends, so I'll come back for it. Just please put a message in my blog that it may be a while before I can make another entry." He took a couple of steps back, grinned, and did a Vulcan sign. Gabriel tried to emulate him, but his fingers couldn't quite figure it out. Hiro showed him how to do it.

"So what does it mean in your country?"

"Live long and prosper!"

"Oh." Then Hiro scrunched up his face, and vanished.

Shortly after, the waitress came over with their orders. "Where'd your Chinese friend go?"

"He's Japanese."

"Oh, my bad."

Gabriel cringed. That was horrible grammar, even in French. "He remembered he had an important meeting."

"Well, what do you want me to do with his food?"

He looked at the plate, and the waffles looked a little bit better than Gabriel's omelet. "You can leave it. I'll pay for them both."

"OK, Sugar."

As Gabriel was eating, a man with dark clothes and dark hair sat across from him. "Hello," he said. "Hey, did I hear right? Is your name Gabriel?"

This made Gabriel extremely uncomfortable that a complete stranger was sitting here, looking straight at him, talking to him, eating from the other plate. "Oui, monsieur," he managed to say.

The man smiled. "That's cool. My name's Gabriel, too. I don't meet very many guys who share my name. I've met a few girls named Gabrielle, but it's not the same."

"Oui. I've met some."

"So, Gabriel, do you have some kind of cute story behind your name, maybe that your mother saw you sleeping in the maternity ward and she thought you looked like an angel, so she named you after one?"

Gabriel chuckled a little. "My parents had Biblical names. They were just continuing with the theme, I guess."

"Interesting. So, what's your last name, Gabriel?"

"Bonhomme, monsieur."

"Goodman. I like that." The man stretched his hand across the table. "Mine is Sylar."

Somehow, that name sounded familiar, and Gabriel didn't like it. He very weakly shook the stranger's hand.

"I kinda like you, kid," the stranger said softly. "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"How personal?"

"Don't worry, I won't tell a soul. It will be just between you and me."

"But you're a stranger."

"You can trust me. We share a name. I just wonder if we have something else in common."

Gabriel looked at him quizzically.

Sylar leaned across the table and said very softly, "Are you . . . special?"

"Of course I am."

"I don't mean like a 'Barney' type deal. I mean, are you different? Is there something that sets you apart from others? I don't know the politically correct of saying it."

"I guess you can say I am. How can you tell?"

"I have a way of watching people. I can tell what makes them tick."

"You're a psychologist?"

"I guess you can say that. Gabriel, I can help you."

Gabriel put his fork down. There was something about this he did not like at all.

The stranger said in a voice that didn't sound like his own, "Why don't you come with me?"

Gabriel started to get up. "Uh, merci, but I have to go. I have a journey of my own, and I can't waste much more time. Sorry." He backed away and put the money on the counter. The stranger just stared at him.

Gabriel didn't get far from the café before he felt a hand grab his shoulder. Gabriel stopped and turned around in fear. It was the stranger, and the stranger smiled and loosened his grip. "I should have explained a little clearer, but I didn't want to do it in front of everybody in there." He looked into Gabriel eyes and whispered, "I can see it."

"What?"

"This." He touched right where Gabriel's head met the neck. Gabriel took in a sharp breath; somehow, he knew this stranger was exactly right. "Do you want me to pluck it out?"

"Are you crazy? No."

"Don't worry. It won't hurt . . . much."

"It's a gift!"

The stranger chuckled. "This isn't a gift, boy." He touched the side of Gabriel's head. "Your swollen cerebral cortex is a gift." He touched the back of Gabriel's head again. "No, this is a curse."

"But the better part of my brain might rely on it. I want it with me! It's what makes me different."

The stranger then pointed at the boy and threw him against the wall. He pointed higher, and the boy was pushed up further. Then he started to feel a terrible pain in his head. Sylar smiled a much bigger smile than the whole time since Gabriel talked to him. Gabriel cried out as the pain rippled across his forehead. "I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice. It's coming out."

Gabriel at first didn't know what to do. But then he thought of what Hanami told him, "If you need help, swallow your pride and ask for it!"

So he looked up and screamed as loudly as he could, "M'AAAAAAAAAAAIDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZཀ" (Help me!)

Gabriel felt the pain grow worse, and he thought he felt blood trickle down his face. He kept screaming for help all the same. Then he looked down at the stranger for a second, but as he looked down, Gabriel noticed that he was glowing a brilliant blue. The light became brighter and brighter. The stranger's eyes grew wide. Then suddenly, Gabriel was going higher and higher above the stranger, and the man was looking around as though he was lost. "I have to get away from this bad man," Gabriel thought. He started going toward the street, but he wasn't coming down. He was flying! He flew faster. He could hear wild flapping, and ever so often, he caught a glimpse of white feathers.

After a while, he felt tired, and he landed on a bench in an explosion of feathers. He stretched out and tried to catch his breath. His head didn't hurt any more. He heard someone applaud. "Bravo! Bravisimo!" a voice said.

"Merci," Gabriel whispered. He was too tired to look around, but he saw several people. "What just happened?" he asked himself. He picked up a white feather beside him. "Did I become an angel?" He looked closer at the feather, and he remembered the pictures from the encyclopedia. "This is a dove's feather. I think I was a dove."

Gabriel sighed and laid his head back. Someone around him was humming "Another Brick in the Wall." Gabriel half listened, amused that somebody was listening to Pink Floyd on an IPod. "Whatever it was, it was a miracle." He finally got his breath back and sat back up. "Well, I suppose I must start trying to look for Monsieur Petrelli."

"You don't need to do that," a voice said.

Gabriel looked around, but he didn't see anybody. So he turned back to the phone.

"Hey kid, I'm talking to you."

Gabriel turned around again. "Ou etes vous?" (Where are you?)

"I'll show you where I am." Just then, the phone fell out of Gabriel's hand.

Gabriel groaned. "Why am I so clumsy?"

"Open your eyes, kid!" The cell phone floated in front of him. "I threw it out of your hand because I was trying to talk to you! I know where Peter Petrelli and your piano-playing friend are, and I'm here to take you to them."

Gabriel put his hand on his forehead, wondering if he was kinda delirious after what just happened. He started reaching for the phone, but it kept jerking just beyond his reach. "Don't tell me you're the Piano Man."

"Oh no. I don't even know how to play 'Chopsticks.'"

"So who are you? The ghost who haunts Monsieur Petrelli's attic?"

"I'm not a ghost! I'm just invisible."

"Oh, the Invisible Man of New York City. Ralph Ellison. That's not a bad book. But wait, Monsieur Petrelli sent an invisible man to find a complete stranger? That's stupid."

"You can tell Peter when we get there. He doesn't listen to me." Gabriel suddenly felt a violent tug on his arm. He walked on as he continued to be pulled. He really didn't know what to make of this, but he decided to play along. After all he'd seen, he was starting to believe anything is possible.

They made it to the busy sidewalks along the street. The Invisible Man was obviously bumping and pushing his way through people. Gabriel was trying to make up for his rudeness by saying, "Pardon," or "Excusez-moi, s'il vous plait."

"Save your breath, kid. This is New York. Pushing somebody is their form of a handshake."

"Then this must be the grumpiest town in the world."

"You have no idea."

"Listen, I'm not very comfortable with all this. I got a few issues with claustrophobia and issues with people and social contact and most of all issues of being dragged through a strange place like a dog on a leash!"

"Alright then, why don't I just walk ahead a few paces and you follow my voice while I sing the entire soundtrack of 'The Wall'? 'Cause that's the only other thing I can think of."

"Why don't I just take a taxi? Isn't that what most people do in New York?" The Invisible Man protested, but Gabriel went ahead and stood on the edge of the sidewalk and waved down a cab. He got inside. "You can join me. Just mind the ears." Gabriel snickered. The car door slammed rather hard.

"Where to, friend?" the cab driver asked.

"Just a moment, please. If you don't mind, I have to call this guy and get directions . . . Voila, Peter Petrelli."

"Peter Pretrelli? Oh, I know where he lives. He's a friend of mine." He started driving. "So, who were you talking to?"

"Oh, it was just . . . never mind." Gabriel's eyes wandered around until they glimpsed the driver's license, and he cried out in surprise. "You're Mohinder Suresh!"

The driver chuckled. "As a matter of fact, I am."

"You're nominated for two Nobel awards in science and medicine and peace, you changed humanity as we know it . . . and you're driving a taxi?"

"Humanitarian awards don't automatically pay the bills. Besides, others who have won the Nobel have come from similar humble backgrounds." He looked at Gabriel in his rear view mirror. "So, are you from India?"

"Non, monsieur. I am from France."

"Have you been to India?"

"Never. Why do you ask?"

"I just find it interesting. It's not every day one sees a European who speaks Indian as fluently as you do."

"Oh! Oh, I uh . . . I apologize. I didn't . . . I was speaking Indian?"

"In the very dialect of the region where I was born and raised."

"Really? I thought you spoke French. Or maybe it was English. I'm not sure anymore."

"Well, I do know some French, but I consider myself bilingual, English and Indian. But why are you so confused?"

"You know, actually, you could probably explain it to me. For the past few days, I've been hearing people speak in my language, and I feel like I am speaking to them in my language, but I'm actually speaking in their language. It's like my brain's automatically translating."

"A babbler," Mohinder whispered.

"What?"

"It's a rare subtype I found in my father's papers. You remember the story of the Tower of Babel? Where the languages were confused?"

"Yes."

"Father described it in such terms, saying that they come with the hardware to sort the confusion back to harmony."

"Well, why didn't he mention it in his book?"

"I don't know. Maybe it was unfinished research. I've discovered a lot of unfinished research lately. But that is a very useful and interesting ability."

"It's an insult."

"Don't say that! You have basically become, as they say, 'all things to all men.' Why would you say that?"

"You have to understand, being French is everything. We're a very proud country, and we have to carry ourselves and present ourselves in just this way. And to be told that I'm speaking American English perfectly without a French accent, it's too much! Someone even told me the other day that I had a Texan accent. I can't stand that."

"What did you say your name was?"

"Didn't. It's Gabriel."

"Gabriel what?"

"Bonhomme."

"Oh. Well, Gabriel, would you mind if we take a very brief detour? You can help me advance some of my research. It won't take long, I promise, and the cab ride would be on me."

"You'll put it down first, will you?"

"Huh?"

"Uh . . . never mind."

"So, what do you say?"

Gabriel paused for a moment, thinking about it.

* * *

"Hanami! Hanami! It's time! It's time!" Hiro ran across the front yard, but he started to tell that something wasn't right. No one was home. He looked into the window of Hanami's room. "Hanami?" he said softly. It was dark. Could they be at her ceremony? The window was cracked just a little bit, and Hiro opened it. His mouth opened in shock. There was police rope around Hanami's bed.

* * *

"Where is he?" Peter asked.

"Look, I told you it was a stupid idea," Claude said. "He couldn't see me, and he didn't trust me. He actually compared me to Harvey. How do you like that?"

"So he didn't come with you?"

"He took a cab. Somehow, he knows you factor into this equation, so I think he's trying to find you. He had a cellphone with your number in it." He stopped for a moment and looked around. "It's quiet in here."

"He's not playing as much. About an hour ago, he stopped in the middle of the song and stared out the window. There's no telling what he's seeing out there."

They looked over and saw the Piano Man, panting, his hand pressed on the window. They saw in his reflection that his eyes were wide with distress.

"Have you ever seen him like this?"

"Yeah, last night he was looking out the window and crying. The dream I had last night seemed to suggest that he had a really hard past."

"Like what?"

Peter groaned. "Oh, a lot of pain. I can't remember exactly."

Claude started walking over to the Piano Man. "Hey, you gonna play something?" He slid his finger down the keys.

"Hey!" Peter cried, but it was too late. The Piano Man threw himself away from the window. He started screaming and rocking back and forth. Peter ran toward him and tried to comfort him. "You shouldn't have disturbed him like that."

Claude shrugged. "I was just trying to break him out of a rut. And look, I think it's working."

The Piano Man got up and returned to the piano. He started playing the bass notes of "Money."

"Hey, this guy likes Pink Floyd too."

"He's never played anything from mainstream radio before that I've heard," Peter said.

* * *

Mohinder turned on the light. Gabriel followed him in. "Have a seat. Make yourself at home. Sorry if it's a little cluttered."

"That's alright. It's not as bad as my room sometimes." Gabriel looked around. "So this is where all the magic happens?"

"I guess you can say that."

"This is where worlds are changed?"

"I didn't change the world. I just explained the changes that were happening." He sat down at a computer. "Alright, let's see."

Gabriel looked closer at the big map in the center of the room. "How come there aren't any pins or pictures in France?"

"We haven't found anybody there yet. But that should change now, starting with you. Unless, there might have been an oversight." He looked at the screen. "Let's see, Gabriel . . . Gabriel . . . Gabriel Gray, that's not it."

"May I?"

"Oh, by all means."

Gabriel stepped behind and looked at the screen. "Hey, there's Hiro!"

Mohinder laughed. "Yes, I remember him."

"And there's Micah, and Madame Sanders. Is this the list of everyone who can do the things in your father's book?"

"Everyone we've found so far."

"I had no idea that Micah . . . wait a minute. Where's Hanami Nakamura?"

"Who?"

"Hanami. She's Hiro's niece. But she can do things, too."

"Well, I haven't found everybody yet. My research is still on-going. I'm learning new things. Well, I don't see you on here, but we'll remedy that."

"Are you just going to type it in?"

"Well first, I need a DNA sample to analyze."

Gabriel started rolling up his sleeve.

"What are you doing?"

"You need to draw blood, don't you?"

"No." He handed Gabriel a cotton swab. "Just swab this on the inside of your cheek."

"Oh." He did so.

"Now, can you tell me a little bit about your ability? How long has it been going on?"

"Well, I haven't noticed it until I came here, and that was by accident."

"Accident?"

"Yeah. I may never really know how I got here to America."

"Have you noticed any complications, headaches or the like?"

"I have had a few headaches. I haven't had them for days, though. And it may be for something completely unrelated."

"What is that?"

"Um . . . well, a few days ago, it was the strangest thing. I checked out your father's book, and I read it in about a minute. And I remembered every word. I tried it out with thicker books. I even memorized five volumes of an encyclopedia. I must have been crazy. I just wore my brain out."

"Let me go out on a limb here. Are you hyperlexic?"

"Oh yeah! Books are my addiction. I devour him like a child would devour candy. Why do you ask?"

"You see, Father was beginning some research on the reaction of the evolutionary gene with other genetic abnormalities. His hypothesis is that the evolution gene is drawn to the other like a magnet. And then they tie together and intensify each other. For instance, he hypothesized that hyperlexia would become even more, uh, hyped by the evolutionary gene."

"Does this have to do with the research you had on finding the autism gene?"

"It's part of it. Why? Do you know someone who's autistic?"

"Actually, I have Asperger's Syndrome. It's a mild case of autism."

"Well, that makes things interesting. Tell me, do you have an interest, an obsession, if you will?"

"Yes. Since I was little, I was interested in the Nobel Prize."

"According to my father's papers, an intense interest on a narrow subject in people with Asperger's can become even more intense. The example he gives in his research was a person who is fascinated by airplanes. He said if they absorb every piece of information dealing with planes, they can go into a cockpit and instantly know how to fly without any training."

"But I'm not interested in planes."

"Yes, but I think perhaps your brain is preparing you to win that award one day. It knows it is an international affair. That's why you're automatically translating any language with which you are familiar. That's why you're automatically retaining information that you believe can be beneficial to the world one day."

"Perhaps, but I have been learning things. This journey has taught me that I'm not ready to change the world. I've learned that I am prejudiced and proud."

"Such as the comment you told me in the cab?"

"Yes. I've seen so much of myself that I don't like. If I ever hope to change the world, I must first change my heart."

Mohinder looked down at him sadly. "I'm afraid even my father would agree that no gene in the world, mutated or otherwise, can help you with that."

Gabriel nodded. "I know this isn't related, but can you tell me about your father?"

"Well, I . . . I always considered him the most brilliant man who ever lived. Perhaps that's too broad, but he was that way to me."

"How did he die?"

"He was murdered while he was doing his research."

"I know how it feels. I lost my father too, when I was 13.

Mohinder nodded sadly. "I do know how that feels. That sudden, unexpected news that he's gone, and you're unprepared. And you were much younger that I was when my father died. It must have been terrible. Did you have any other family to take you in?"

"Well, my mother passed away when I was just a baby. I stayed with an aunt and uncle through lycele (high school). It was very painful and stressful. A few months after the funeral, I started sleepwalking. I sometimes found myself in alleys or on a pebble beach. I always felt lucky that I wasn't hit by a car or something. A psychologist said I was looking for my father in my sleep. He prescribed some very strong narcotics, and it stopped. Until now."

"Until now?"

"Yeah. I sleepwalk, and I find myself in Los Angeles. Hiro said I went superfast, even against time. I don't know how I did that."

"Interesting. Do you think that's connected to your ability?"

"I don't know. Every time I sleepwalk, I have a terrible nightmare. I usually don't remember it, but I remembered it when it first happened. I dreamed I saw how my father died."

"I've had a dream like that. It's horrible."

"And it gets worse. I see him in Hell. It's not like Dante's Inferno. It's all sterile and cold, like a hospital. And I watch them torture him and hear him screaming. It's just terrible. You don't think my father's really in Hell, do you?"

"Uh . . . no. Tell me, Gabriel, how's life for you now? Do you still live with family?"

"Not quite. I still go back to them on a regular basis, about every other weekend. Dad's inheritance was all to go to my education." Gabriel chuckled a little. "You'd think that a son of a professor, even a former professor, would get into university free."

"In India, it's not only that, they allow you to teach."

"I guess I could be glad I'm not in India then! Anyhow, I used some of my inheritance to buy rent on an apartment, and a new bike. You know, actually, my first semester I was just depressed again. I guess being at Dad's school, just, you know, made it too hard. I didn't want to try anymore. I didn't study. I just browsed through the books. I even started sitting on back row and sometimes daydreamed through class. And yet somehow, I was making the top grades."

"Perhaps that's when your ability first became manifest."

"Maybe. Oh, there is something else weird."

"What is that?"

"It's only happened a couple of times. I think in those times I reached out to people, maybe wanting to make a connection to them. And my hand, while it was reaching, would glow blue."

"Did it hurt?"

"No, it didn't feel like anything. It just glowed. I would hear this annoying hum in my ears. And then when I did touch them, something would happen. I don't know if I can explain it in words, but I felt like I came to an understanding about them, like I knew things about them that I wouldn't know otherwise. And I felt like they experienced the same. They understood the deepest, darkest parts of me."

"I don't know if I can give you an explanation for that. Was this experience . . . sexual?"

"NO!" Gabriel retched.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. That's just something geneticists would understand. Was it more . . . mystical or spiritual?"

"Yeah, it was a little."

"Well . . . I'd have to document it before I could even begin to explain it."

"Why don't we try?"

"Alright." Mohinder reached out his hand as though he was extending it in a handshake. Gabriel looked really hard at him, which was very difficult to do with someone he deemed so important. He thought about how this person was like a mentor to him and how he would love to understand more about him. Slowly, Gabriel reached forward and took Mohinder's hand.

"It's not working."

"Hmm," Mohinder said quietly. "Sorry." He let go. "There is one other thing I need to tell you. You need to be on your guard. Others are out there like you. I know you've met some of them, but you have to watch out for a few. I met one last year that can kill people like you. I'm sure you'll remember his name. It's Gabriel Sylar."

Gabriel gasped. "I just talked to him this morning!"

"You mean he's here? He's alive?"

"Yeah, and he's creepy. He suggested that he could cure me."

"Of your ability?"

"I think he meant my autism. He seemed disgusted by it. He wouldn't even call it by name. He said he could take it out without hurting me."

"Don't believe him. He's good at manipulation, but he'll kill you. He's very dangerous."

"I knew it. I had an instinct not to trust him, and I'm lucky I got away." He wasn't sure if he should talk about the dove thing because he didn't think Mohinder could explain that either. "Well, I really need to get going."

"I must say, it's been a pleasure meeting you. There's only one other person with autism who reportedly has such abilities that I've heard of, and I haven't had the chance to meet him yet."

"Who's that?"

"Oh, a friend of mine found him. He's a piano playing savant."

Gabriel stared at him in astonishment. "You're going to see him too?"

* * *

Hiro was in Hanami's bedroom for about an hour searching for clues. Something told him that maybe she was hiding, and any moment she'll just come out of the closet and surprise him.

Suddenly, the door slammed open. Kimiko was standing there, glaring at Hiro. Hiro greeted her with a grin. "Where is she?"

"What have you done with her?"

Hiro's grin faded. "What do you mean?"

She started approaching Hiro. "Did you murder her? Did you rape her? What did you do with her? Where is she?"

Hiro looked back in absolute horror. "How can you say such awful things? I would never! I love her!"

"Don't play dumb, Hiro Nakamura! I know you took her!"

Even as he was speaking, police came behind Hiro and grabbed him. Hiro began crying and screaming, "NO! I DIDN'T!"

* * *

Half a world away, a six-year-old Asian girl wearing rainbow ribbons in her pigtails appeared alone in Times Square. She silently looked around and walked down the sidewalk.

Someone was watching her, still hungry. He could see her glowing. He already had her power, but hers was stronger and even more refined.

* * *

Gabriel knocked on the door, and Peter answered. "Bienvenue," (Welcome) Peter said.

"Monsieur Petrelli, I presume," Gabriel said as he shook his hand.

"Monsieur Petrelli etait le nom de mon pere. S'il vous plait, appelez-moi Peter." (Mr. Petrelli was my father's name. Please call me Peter.)

"OK, Peter."

"Quel est votre nom?" (What is your name?)

"Gabriel Bonhomme."

"Heureux pour vous recontrer, Gabriel." (Pleased to meet you, Gabriel.)

"Wait a minute," Claude said as he came up behind Peter. "Why are you speaking French when he's speaking English?"

Peter turned around and looked at him. "I'm speaking French? How's that? I never spoke a word of French in me whole ruddy life!" Peter stopped and put his hand on his mouth. "Did I just say 'ruddy?'"

"You did, mate, and I gotta say, nice accent. I guess I must have thrown in enunciation for free."

Mohinder, who was standing right behind Gabriel, explained, "He can automatically translate any language, and he speaks French originally. I suppose with you absorbing the ability, it may cancel it out a little, cause a strange effect."

"That'll be useful next time I see Hiro," Peter remarked.

"He's absorbing my ability?" Gabriel said. "He's taking it away from me?"

"It's more like we're sharing it. So, this Piano Man, who is he? Where is he from?"

"I don't know. I just know I have to see him. Maybe I'll figure out everything then."

"Well, come on in. I'll introduce you."

Gabriel walked into the living room almost in slow motion. Peter opened the door to the other room and nodded at Gabriel. Mohinder comfortingly put his hand on Gabriel shoulder. Gabriel slowly walked into the room. The haunting piano music drew him in, but as he came closer, as he got his eyes out of the sunlight, the music stopped. He couldn't believe his eyes. The Piano Man took his hands off the keys and turned toward the boy. "Gabriel?" he said in a whispering voice.

Gabriel overcame just a little bit of his shock to say one word:

"Papa?"

To be continued . . .


	7. Fathers

Chapter 7: Fathers

Mohinder–Salmon always find their way home to spawn. Domesticated animals often have a way to locate their masters. Perhaps, even in the depths of our heart, something draws us closer to our home and to each other.

Every jaw in Peter's apartment was loose. Mohinder was astonished that once again there was a family connection, and the world felt a little smaller. Peter was amazed because the man who had not made a vocal sound in days just spoke a word. Claude didn't really care about anything, but he couldn't get over everybody's faces. The Piano Man, or whoever he was, stared at the little boy (he still was in his eyes) who was now a young man. But no one was more flabbergasted than Gabriel, seeing the most important figure of his life back from the dead.

"I cannot believe it," the Piano Man said in French. "I thought I'd never see you again." He reached out to touch Gabriel's face.

"No!" Gabriel took a big step back. He was shaking all over. "No, this isn't . . . it can't be . . . impossible!" He turned toward Peter and Mohinder. "This isn't funny. It's a trick! You're all in on it! Hiro, Micah, Claire, Hanami, those American spies, they're part of it too!"

"What are you saying?" Peter gasped.

"This man is not my father! He's an imposter! You tricked me!"

"Gabriel, why would we do that?" Mohinder said calmly.

"I don't know, but I hope you don't win the Nobel. You, sir, don't deserve it! This is dishonorable and shameful!" Gabriel started bounding out of the room.

"That's my shirt," the Piano Man called after him. Gabriel stopped and turned around. "I bought it in '85 at a concert in London. You used to wear it like pajamas. It looks good." He paused and smiled. "Are you still thinking about winning the Nobel?"

Gabriel took a couple of steps toward him but then said in a dark tone, "Mon pere est mort." (My father is dead.)

"They told you I was dead?"

Gabriel rolled his eyes and wouldn't respond.

"They told you I was dead?!" the Piano Man asked in more fury.

"Yes," Gabriel said in a huff.

Piano Man hit the keys. "Those cowards. Those uncaring, heartless cowards! They told you I was dead?"

"How many times do you have to go through that? They not only told me, they showed me! I had to identify your body in the morgue!"

"Oh, I can explain that, believe me. Gabriel, you need to understand. There was no Pink Floyd concert. I–"

"You're lying!"

"No, Gabriel."

"Then you left me?"

"No, Gabriel, I wouldn't leave you. I didn't know! If I knew, I wouldn't have gone. I shouldn't have gone, since you didn't want to come with me. I can't believe they told you I was dead."

"Yeah, well you just continue to ruminate on that. I'm going back to France. Alone!"

"Gabriel!" Peter, Mohinder, and the Piano Man all said at once, and they all clamored in protest.

Gabriel didn't listen. He made his way to the front door, opened, and screamed back at all of them, "My father can't play piano!" And he slammed the door.

The Piano Man hit his head on the keyboard. Mohinder looked around him very uncomfortable. "Well, uh, I have business I must attend to. Benet will want to know . . . If you'll excuse me." He back away and let himself out.

Peter had to admit, he was a little angry. He approached this man whom he had taken care of for several days, who now felt like a stranger, and said, "Alright, since you can talk, can you tell me your name?"

The Piano Man raised his head and stared at the keys. He would not look Peter in the eyes, and he replied in a whisper, "I am no one."

"Were you not able to talk to us because you don't speak English?"

"I can speak English." He was quiet for a very long time. Peter was searching for another question to ask, and by the time he found one, the Piano Man added, "I stopped talking because I don't want to talk anymore." He was just silent, his head bowed. As if by instinct, his fingers started to lightly touch the keys, and he started playing again, only this time he didn't seem like he got anything out of it. Peter shook his head and left the room.

"What are you so surprised about?" Claude asked him. "They have the same nose. Didn't you notice? Or am I the only bloke that sees things like that anymore?"

"This is not a good time, Claude." Peter sat down, sighed, and put his head in his hands.

"Oh, I know what's going on. I know that look. Misanthropic thoughts starting to seep in. So, let's hear it."

"It's just the other Piano Man. He was faking it the whole time. Just a pity case. I wasted my week on this guy! I mean, I feel bad that that kid treated him like that, but still. He could talk the whole time? The whole time he could have told us who he was and where he's from. And I feel like a fool."

"Yep. There it is."

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead and gloat. I'm going to try to figure out what to do with him." Peter got up and grabbed a phone book.

Outside, the skies were getting dark. Thunder rumbled, and then a good drizzle started. Claude watched the rain fall then heaved a huge sigh of disbelief. He walked out the door.

* * *

Claire Bennet–Odessa, Texas

Claire met Zack in the hallway in between classes. "So, did you hear anything about Gavin?"

"Yeah, actually. You know, I might have been wrong about him. Maybe what happened the other day was a joke or something."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, his mother called us again. She said that he didn't run away after all. He actually went to get an internship at that paper factory."

Claire stared at him. "What?"

"Yeah. Even I think it's a little nerdy. But it could be good for him. I mean, it provide pretty well for your family, didn't it?"

The one minute warning bell rang, and Zack went on ahead of her to get to class. Claire was even more worried. She or her father had to intervene somehow, and fast.

* * *

Hiro Nakamura–Tokyo Prison

Hiro, wearing a prison uniform, sat in a bare interrogation room, his hands and feet cuffed together. The officers told him that someone was coming in to talk to him. Hiro hadn't felt this devastated since he failed to save Charlie, and maybe even this trumps that moment. For hours he had been screaming his innocence and crying over Hanami, and no one paid any attention. He didn't deserve this. He tried several times to use his powers to escape, but his emotions were running so high he couldn't focus. He needed his sword with him.

A guard opened the door, and a familiar man with a stern look walked into the room. "Father!" Hiro tried to say cheerfully.

But Mr. Nakamura's expression didn't change. He sat down in front of Hiro. The guard closed the door and left them alone. "Last year, I thought you have shamed me beyond measure. You played hero in America, denied my request to come home, and named my daughter as my heir." (He seemed to spit out the word "daughter" as though it wasn't pleasant.) "But this, Hiro, is the greatest dishonor ever heaped upon my head. It will be easier on all of us if you confessed. Tell me, where is my granddaughter?"

"Father, you must listen to me. I didn't take her! I was in America for about a week. Go to my blog. I documented everything there. I don't know where she is!"

"You took her, Hiro. You took her before one of the most important days of her young life, and you have no idea the future I had planned for her."

"I wouldn't do that, Father. Perhaps she ran away. We've heard of children like Hanami wandering off."

"Hiro, buckets with holes do not hold water. The police have carefully inspected her room. They found your fingerprints on her bed."

"That means nothing! I've often visited her room and sat on her bed."

"They also found a hair and dead skin cells sloughed off in the past 24 hours. They were from you, Hiro."

Hiro stared ahead. He couldn't readily explain that, but then he thought it must have been his future self who took her. But why would he do this him, knowing in the future what a humiliating experience this would be?

"I ask you again, Hiro, where is my granddaughter?"

Hiro sighed. Perhaps he should tell the truth. "Father, she's one of us. I can't explain what happened or why, but . . . please let me go. Pay the bail. Get me out of this place. Take me home. I will get Kensei's sword and hunt for Hanami myself, and I will return and put her into your arms. I swear this with a samurai's oath, which can never be broken, not even by death."

Mr. Nakamura shook his head. He stood and began walking out. "No, Hiro," he replied. "I will not let you go until you decide to tell the truth. And if you refuse, you are no son of mine."

"But it is the truth!" Hiro screamed.

Mr. Nakamura walked out and slammed the door. Hiro buried his face in his arms and wept again.

* * *

Gabriel sat alone in the rain on the same Central Park bench, crying. He still felt angry, but he also felt lost and alone, and this was the best way he could think of to express his emotions. A few people walked by and asked if he needed anything, and he said to them all a very emphatic, "Go away!" Probably after half an hour of this, he felt a nudge. "I said go–" but then he turned and saw nobody there.

"Fine," he heard Claude's voice say. "If you want to catch pneumonia, be my guest. Otherwise–" Suddenly, the rain wasn't falling on Gabriel anymore. There was no telling what Claude was doing (he probably stole an umbrella).

"Alright, you can stay," Gabriel said remorsefully.

"Thanks, mate. I nicked you some French fries." A package of fries suddenly appeared in Gabriel's lap.

"You know, these aren't really French."

"OK, I'll take them back and get you a croissant."

"No, no, no, I'll still eat them."

"Ketchup?"

"Non, merci. I like them plain."

"Smart lad. Look, do you want to talk?"

"Not really. Besides, it'll look like I'm talking to myself."

"Well, it's not like you care about that. Heck, you were talking to yourself when I found you."

"That's true. Fine, but let's keep it brief."

Claude sighed. "Alright, here it is. My old man passed away when I was about your age. Not that it really mattered. I didn't think the world of him or anything. In fact, he was probably the origin of my misanthropy, and that was before I got the chance to see people as they really are. But it did happen rather suddenly. He had a stroke. So, I know what you're going through, the confusion, loneliness, anger, rebellion. You looked a lot like me when you were walking out of the apartment."

"How could you tell?"

"I wasn't like this forever, ok? My point is, you don't have to take that out on Peter or Ghandi. They both got 'good guy syndrome.' The lot of them do, actually."

Gabriel sighed. "I didn't really believe it was their fault anyway. I'm just trying to figure it out. But I don't care what you say, that man is not my father. Nothing you can do can convince me of that."

"I'm not trying to convince you. I don't really care. But maybe you should come back so you could at least have a roof over your head for the night."

"No. I'm going to hang out here for a little while and think, and then I'm going to the airport to see about flying back home."

"You know you're never going to get to France. The Merry Queen of Chance won't allow you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You don't have a passport. You're here illegally."

"How do you know I don't have a passport?"

"As an invisible man, I'm the best pickpocket in all the world. Yours are empty. Pockets, I mean."

"Well, I guess I should be honored. Hey wait, where are your papers, Tony Blair?"

"Who's going to care? Most of America doesn't know I'm here taking up space."

"Being invisible does have its perks, doesn't it?" Gabriel stared ahead. "In all seriousness, I'm glad to have met you, whoever you are. I always thought I was the invisible one, and it helps to see what it's really like. And believe me, the thing of seeing people as they really are? It's a gift. I mean, I can't even begin to get a glim–"

"Alright, now you really are talking to yourself." Claude's voice sounded a little further away, as though he was standing up and preparing to leave. A multicolored umbrella fell on Gabriel's head. He spent several minutes trying to figure out how to position it back, feeling very much like Jonah. At least he was too busy to cry anymore.

* * *

Claire remembered that Gavin at his lunches alone in the library, so after she bought hers she went down there. She found him sitting in an ante-room where they put a lot of books about Texas history. "Hey Gavin. Can I join you?"

He glowered up at her. "Won't that make you less popular? I don't understand a lot of your social rules, but eating with the uncoolest kid in the school in the uncoolest place in the school has gotta be bad for status."

"It's worth the risk." She sat down across from him. He ate his sandwich and refused to make eye contact with her. She didn't even touch her food, just leaned down to him and whispered, "That place where you're working, the paper factory, you need to get out."

He just scoffed.

"I'm serious, Gavin. Listen, you and I both know that it's not really a paper factory. My dad used to work there. From what Zack tells me, you're able to do . . . things. I know it seems like something awesome right now and they seem like the experts on it. But trust me, they're bad. See, I'm special in that way, too. They've been trying to get me. Dad wouldn't let them take me. I don't what they were going to do, but it must be horrible. And they'll do it to you too! The only way to escape it is to get out now! Run! Dad will help you find a place to hide."

Gavin cleared his mouth and said, "No."

"Gavin," Claire whispered, but he held up his hand to stop her.

"In the past few years, you and others like you have made it painfully obvious that I don't belong. I don't belong with the jocks, the preps, not even really with the nerds, and certainly not with snobby airheads like you!" Claire gasped at the comment. "Now I found some people who will talk to me, who are interested in me, who want to help me. I'm on my way to finding somewhere I belong, and I'm not leaving!"

"But Gavin, Dad will help you find–"

Gavin, however, was looking to the side. "What do you mean you won't talk to her? She'll listen to you! You're one of her kind!"

"Gavin, who are you talking to?"

Gavin smirked. "An old friend of yours."

"Jackie?"

"It's funny. In fifth grade, she wouldn't say two words to me. Now, I'm the only person she can talk to."

Claire saw that this was getting her nowhere, and she picked up her tray and started walking out, but then Gavin said, "They're still after you, you know." She turned around. "The lady named Candace wanted to use me to get to you. Thompson and I, though, convinced them that this wouldn't be wise, that I should follow another purpose." He stood up and this time looked her dead in the eyes. "Don't make me change their mind."

She gave him a terrified look and back out of the room. She had to tell her Dad about this.

* * *

He was watching her closely. On the sidewalk, people who usually push through crowds were being forced to step aside. As they got close to her, their feet just walked around her. That way, nobody touched her. At one point, a pedophile grabbed her around the middle to carry her off. In the next second, he was propelled through the air and landed about a block away. So this wasn't going to be easy. He had to be smooth.

He walked in front of her from out of a dark alley and resisted the twitch in his feet to pass to the other side. "Hey honey, are you lost?" he said as he knelt down to her level.

She just stared at him.

"Awww. Come with me. I'll help you find your mommy and daddy."

He held out his hand to her. She looked up at him and held up her arms.

"Oh, you want me to carry you? OK." As he reached for her, he was chuckling to himself. "As hard as it was for everybody else, this is so easy."

But then, the girls eyes flashed. At the last second, he was propelled into the air. He nearly landed in the dumpster when he thought, "What are you doing? Fight back with your own telekinesis!" He put the breaks on in midair, almost exactly like a cartoon.

Claude was walking back to the Deveaux building to check on the pigeons when he saw the whole thing. "Whoa! Kid's got spunk."

The girl gasped and looked around. She held her hands out in front of her, and her eyes looked like she was concentrating very hard. The man was coming toward her slowly, one step at a time, as he fought against her power. She looked toward him, and then she looked to the edge of the sidewalk. "Mr. Rains!" she cried.

"What?" he cried in astonishment. She ran straight for him and hugged him around the legs. "You see me?"

"You," a voice said. He looked up and saw Sylar staring him down. "I've been eager to meet you for a while."

"Wait, you see me too?"

"Well, not physically, but I can see how you tick. That's good enough. I guess I can kill two birds with one stone, so to speak."

"Can you see this?" Claude punched him in the face. As Sylar bowed over, Claude grabbed the girl's hand. "Let's get out of here!"

They ran off and hid in an alley. Sylar passed by. Claude held the girl close thinking that she'd mimic his invisibility, but as he looked across at a window, he saw her reflection and not his. "OK, you're not an empath. So, how can you see me, love?"

The girl looked at him and giggled.

He imitated her giggle. "You like keeping secrets from me, do you?"

She smiled and nodded.

Inside he was furious, just like when Peter first saw him, but he couldn't manhandle a little girl. And he'd never seen anything cuter than a little Asian girl, though he wasn't about to say it out loud. "Alright, fine. You like birds?"

She nodded.

"Here. I'll take you to a place where there's a lot of birds."

She held up her arms for him to pick her up.

"Uh, no, no, I can't do that. I'll . . . let you hold my hand."

He held out his hand to her, she took it, and they walked on.

* * *

About when Gabriel had just got situated with the umbrella and eating his fries again, he had more company. "Where did you get that umbrella?"

It was Mohinder, holding an umbrella of his own. "A friend gave it to me," Gabriel answered. "What do you want?"

"I just had some thoughts about what happened earlier, about what you said to your father."

"He's not my father."

"I can perform a paternity test."

"No, you don't have to do that. It would just be a bunch of needle pricking and big to-do for nothing."

"Why are you so sure that that man is not your father?"

Gabriel stared at him. "Where do I start?"

"Allow me. I have a theory. You are hesitant to accept him as a father because of your natural resistance to change. You are comfortable living alone in an apartment, and you're not ready to live as part of a family again."

"No. Well, actually, that may be part of it, but . . ."

"Yes?"

"If my father really was alive, he wouldn't have abandoned me. He was the only family I really knew. Everybody else lived so far away. He's been a good father throughout my childhood. Why would he leave me during my teenage years, when I needed his leadership most? I mean, what if you found that your father was still alive last year? You didn't have to go find everyone to save New York all on your own. Wouldn't you have been resentful?"

"I don't think so. You see, Gabriel, my father was with me. I had his research. That's all I needed. If he were alive, what more could he have said or done? He gave me all I needed. And perhaps you don't realize that you carried your father with you as well."

"What do you mean, the shirt?"

"During your teenage years, did you use drugs?"

"No."

"Did you commit crimes?"

"No."

"Did you do well in school?"

"As best I could."

"You see, everything your father taught you, you lived up to. In that way, he was with you."

"I guess so. Still, I can't get past that he never played the piano. My father is no Piano Man."

"Perhaps there is another way you can tell. You can try that connection power you told me of, you know, with the blue glow?"

"It's not going to work."

"You keep thinking that. One thing I learned about these genetic evolutions is that they don't work exactly when you expect them to. Come on, I'll give you another free ride down there. What have you got to lose?"

* * *

Up on Deveaux's roof, Claude was catching the pigeons. "Let's get you all dry. That'll be nice, won't it?" He got one in his hands and held it to the little girl. "You want to touch her? Just pet her head?" The girl gently stroked its head. "There. She likes that. Good–ooh, oh, watch it. She's not necessarily tame. There we go." He put her back in the coop. The little girl closed her eyes and put her hands in front of her face. "Look at me, girl," Claude said. She opened her eyes and looked at him. "What's your name, love?"

"Hanami. Hanami Nakamura."

"Nakamura? Why does that name sound familiar?"

"Uncle Hiro!"

He might as well change the subject. "So how old are you?"

She held up six fingers.

"Six? Well, you're an old woman. So can you tell how you can see me?"

Hanami said an answer, but it was in Japanese. Claude was way out of practice, and she was going too fast for him.

"Whoa, whoa! Sorry I asked. Man, that French boy can really help us now. Well, we'll worry about him later. Right now, let's work on getting you in a coop."

Hanami giggled. She held up her arms again.

"Well, alright, but just while we're going down the stairs where no one can see us." Hanami giggled, climbed on to his shoulders, and held tightly to his neck. Sometimes she looked down with delight to see nothing under her, and she felt kinda supernatural. Claude had a feeling that he was going to be sore the next morning, but something about this was also really sweet.

* * *

Peter spent all day calling shelters and hospitals telling them about the John Doe in his custody, just looking for somebody to take him off his hands. As evening fell, the Piano Man called, "Peter! Peter! Come in here for a moment."

Peter sighed and went into his room. "What is it?"

"You might want to sit down. This could take a while." Peter sat in a chair on the other side of the room. "I was thinking maybe I should tell you my story, since Gabriel wouldn't listen. My name is Michael Bonhomme."

Peter smirked, "Michael? That doesn't sound like a very French name."

"It's in the Bible, the name of an angel. Those names are 'en vogue' almost everywhere. I was a professor at a prestigious university in Paris. I taught classes in Shakespeare and Victor Hugo. I've written some internationally known articles on the latter."

"Wait, that book you turned into. 'I saw the play.' 'Les Miserables!'"

"Yes, it's one of my favorites. But I've taken the most pleasure in popular music. I like to analyze lyrics of difficult or perhaps controversial songs. I was drawn to Pink Floyd because they have a lot of those, but I was drawn in more by their music and their history. About four years ago, I had an adult student who told me of a big reunion concert Pink Floyd was playing in Paris. Gabriel didn't want to go, so I left him with one of his friends. I was accompanied with the adult student. I followed her directions, but they didn't lead to a concert. There I was kidnaped and taken to London, I think. And then for years they drugged me, tested on me, did all sorts of horrible things. They turned me into a savant. Gabriel was right. I never played piano before, but they forced me to learn the pieces, and they tested me daily on my memory. It was a nightmare. It was an absolute nightmare."

"So, they made you autistic?"

"No. I had mild autism, like my son. Their experiments may have caused me to revert a little."

"How did you get out?"

"It was a strange thing. About a year ago, I was looking out a window, wishing I was free, and I turned into a bird and flew away. I changed into many creatures on my journey, and every time I was wounded or harmed, I changed into something else, and it was like I was working with a blank slate. And I just kept traveling. Perhaps I have been everywhere around the world. And I suppose since I set foot on American soil, I haven't been able to change into a creature since."

"What about the book?"

"I can manage inanimate objects, but not for long. As you said, it's very uncomfortable. And I can change things into other things, anything I desire. But that loss of fluidity was a big blow to me, and it does immensely hurt."

"Why?"

"You must understand Peter, the memories were horrible. I could block them out whenever I was an animal, but not as a human. Music was the only thing that could make me forget. But even more than this, the events I've been through made me lose faith in humanity. I hated humanity so much that I never wanted to be a human again."

Neither of them noticed, but Gabriel came in and heard a lot of this, and that particular sentence really hurt.

Michael reached for Peter's hand. "But you, Peter, you have shown me the first kindness and decency from a human being that I have experienced in four years. I cannot adequately express my gratitude. You are slowly rebuilding that faith. I only wish I could say the same to my son."

"Well, you're welcome. By the way, I know this is kinda off-topic, but . . . can you tell me how you do that thing with the piano?"

"What thing? I play it."

"Yeah, but when you play it, I experience things, colors, tastes, smells. I mean, if it's a secret, I'll respect that, but I just wondered."

Michael gave him the strangest look. "I don't know if I can explain it. It's just something that happens."

That's when Gabriel spoke up. "So that's why you didn't try to find me. I'm human, one of the human race. You hated me with the rest of them, didn't you?"

Michael stood. "No, that's not true, Gabriel. I thought about you every night. Every night, I wished and I prayed for you to find me somehow. And when I found my gift, I tried to make my way to you, but I never could understand the navigation. One time when I tried to make it to France, I found myself in Egypt. Another time, it was Rome. And another time, it was Australia. And all that time, I missed you. Even when I was a cockroach scurrying across the floor of a Spanish kitchen, I missed you. And I am sorry I never found you."

Peter got up and went to Claude, whom he saw standing on the other side of the room. "We, uh, probably ought to give them a moment alone," he whispered.

"Oh, don't worry. They won't know I'm here," he whispered back.

"So, if you're alive, is Mother alive?" Gabriel asked.

"I wish she was, son. How I wish she was. But that would be a miracle."

"Don't worry, Papa. I believe in miracles now."

Michael gave a sad smile and held his arms out. Gabriel came close to him. As he moved, he heard the same hum in his ears. He looked down and saw himself glowing a brilliant blue. And he looked up and saw Michael was glowing a bright green. He came closer to him, and the lights became brighter.

"It is you! Mon pere!"

"Mon fils!" (My son)

And they hugged and cried and laughed. The room was full with a brilliant turquoise light.

"Father, forgive me for doubting you."

"Of course, son. Forgive me."

"Yes, father."

Michael looked up passed Gabriel's shoulder. "Qui etes vous?"

Gabriel turned around and saw a bald guy with a scruffy beard and a leather jacket. "Is that what you look like?"

He raised his hands and answered, "Are you guys going to take me to the mother ship?" Yep, that was Claude's voice.

"Look, I don't understand any more than you–" Gabriel started walking toward him, but then the light disappeared, and so did Claude. "Ah, zut!" (an expression of anger)

"Sorry. Actually, I'm glad to see you here."

"Well, I wish I could say the same."

"Too bad. I found this girl, real cutie, but she's Japanese. She doesn't say a lot of English, so I need for you to translate. She indicated that she needed to use the loo, so I brought her in."

"You did what?" Peter said as he came to the room.

"I would have asked you mate, but you looked occupied. We'll figure out what to do with her later."

"So, she's in the bathroom?"

"Yeah, that's what I said. Didn't you absorb his ability or what?" They all walked down the hall to the bathroom. Claude knocked on the door. "You done yet in there, love? Love?" Suddenly, the door opened. There was a little girl sitting on the edge of the tub, just staring off into space. She gasped and looked toward the door.

Gabriel recognized that face. "Hanami?"

* * *

Mohinder dialed a number on his phone. A couple of rings, and somebody picked up. "Yes?"

"I found him. He was in Central Park, just as you said."

"And do you have him?"

"Not at the moment. He's with Peter. I managed to get a DNA sample. Would that be helpful?"

"Perhaps, but it would be more helpful if I can see him face to face once more."

"We found his father as well. The boy thought he was dead for four years! He took it very hard."

"Bring him too."

"I don't feel right about this cloak-and-dagger. He's just an innocent kid. I don't think he has anything to do with Sylar. Why must we put him through this?"

"Mohinder, my assistant informed me that the intelligence he garnered was inconclusive. I want it concluded! Too many lives have been lost!"

"True, but what makes you think–?"

"That is classified."

"Alright. I'll do what I can." Mohinder hung up.

To be continued . . .


	8. Hide and Seek

Chapter 8: Hide and Seek

Peter Petrelli's Apartment

"Hanami?" Gabriel asked.

"Hai," (yes) she answered.

Michael waved and said, "Hi," quietly, not sure if she was greeting him or not.

Gabriel came closer to her. "Vous ette tres belle encore." (You are still very beautiful, literally you are very beautiful again.) As he got too close, her eyes grew wide, and she looked at him and pushed him away across the hall.

Claude gave a hard laugh, and he couldn't stop. He finally managed to say, "Well, she showed you!"

"Je suis tres desole, cherie!" (I am very sorry, my dear one.)

Hanami came close to him with a bewildered look on her face. "Dear one?"

"Oui. I mean it."

"Sorry." She offered him her hand, and the moment he took it, there was that glow again, just like in the dream. She looked at him with amazed eyes and then smiled. "Gabriel."

"Oui."

"How do you know each other?" Peter asked.

"I . . . saw her in a dream."

"You know you're infatuated with a six-year-old," Claude spoke up.

"Who says I'm infatuated?" Gabriel answered, annoyed. "Are you infatuated? You keep calling her 'amour.'"

"You need to be schooled in Brit slang, mate."

Gabriel sighed. "I need to be schooled in every form of slang."

"Oh, never mind." He knelt down and put his hand on Hanami's shoulder. "Now love, tell the nice boy what you told me."

Hanami slowly repeated, even making a few gestures. Gabriel said, "She says, 'I see . . . but I don't see . . . I hear . . . but I don't hear . . . I understand . . . but I don't understand.'"

"Okaaaay," Claude said uncertainly. "Little too tired for riddles."

But Gabriel and Michael said at the same time, "I know exactly how that feels."

"I think what she's saying is that she can't really see you, but she's aware of you," Peter said. "It's like you're her imaginary friend."

"Oh no! No! I'm not going to be equated with Barney!" Claude said loudly.

"I don't think it's that exactly. It's hard to tell, but I think there's a trick to it."

Hanami smiled and tugged at Claude's shirt. "Mr. Rains!" she said excitedly, then she made a request in Japanese.

"She wants to know if you want to play–" Gabriel began to translate.

But then, Hanami said the rest in English, "Hide and seek?"

Claude laughed again. "Ok, I'm game, but I'm going to win!"

Hanami hid her eyes. "One, two, three . . ."

Claude just stood still. Peter approached and whispered, "Well, aren't you going to hide?"

"I'm invisible, you idiot!" Claude thought back to him. "I just have to stand really still and not breathe."

". . . nine, ten, ready or not here I come!" But she didn't move. She started scanning the room, almost as if she expected that he didn't leave. She held her hands in front of her eyes. Suddenly, the air got a little cooler and started circulating. Gabriel was cold natured and hugged his arms. For just one second, he thought he saw something. "FOUND YOU!" Hanami suddenly jumped forward and tagged Claude.

"Whoa!" Claude laughed out of shock, but then he said, "OK, beginners luck. Let's go again, best two out of three."

Hanami said something, and Gabriel translated, "She said, 'You usually hide better than that, Mr. Rains.'"

"I'm telling you," Peter said, "you're her imaginary friend. She's had practice. Her telekinesis is very refined. She moved the air molecules fast enough so that she could see your frame."

"Yeah, I saw it too," Gabriel said.

"Wow. That's a good trick. But how can she still see me?" Claude.

"I don't know. I guess she sees you in her mind's eye," Peter suggested.

Hanami yawned and leaned her head on Claude's arm. "Aww, you tired, love? Gotta little bit of jet lag, do ya?"

Peter sighed. "I don't think I have beds for everybody. With Piano Ma–I mean Mr. Bonhomme–"

"Professor, if you don't mind."

"Right. Anyway with him, I was fighting to have enough space anyway. Perhaps I could my mother."

"Why don't Gabriel and I get a hotel room of our own? We have some catching up to do, after all."

"You think we'd be able to manage that, Papa?" Gabriel said. "I mean, this is New York City. Can we get a hotel at the last minute?"

"We'll find one, son. Don't worry. We'll come back in the morning." He took Gabriel by the hand and got out of there as fast as he could.

"Well, that was weird," Claude observed.

* * *

Harmony Miller--El Paso Texas

Harmony flipped through the flash cards. She loved doing this, matching the shapes on the cards with the shapes on the keys. They made funny sounds. She tried the top one.

"F-I-S-H, fish."

She smiled at a picture of a smiling animal with no feet waving its tail in drops of water. It looked happy. She turned to the next one. She liked it. It had all the colors of the strings on her shoes that the nice girl with yellow hair gave her. She pushed the buttons.

"R-A-I-N-B-O-W, rainbow."

She liked that word. As she was going to the next card, the talker was making sounds by itself.

"H-E-L-L-O, Hello, H-A-R-M-O-N-Y, Hello Harmony."

It's not supposed to make sounds unless she pushed the buttons. She felt that bad feeling inside of her. She moaned loudly and started to rock back in forth.

Meanwhile, the talker was still talking. "D-O-N-apostrophe-T, Don't, B-E, Don't be, A-F-R-A-I-D, Don't be afraid."

Harmony stared at it, still not feeling particularly comfortable. The talker kept talking, this time in full words. "I, am, your, friend. My, name, is, Hannah. I, am, talking, to, you, through, your, computer."

Harmony started to calm down. She didn't understand what the talker meant, but maybe she needed to listen.

"I, have, something, important, to, tell, you."

She picked up the talker and pushed the keys, "W-A-T." It didn't say it aloud because that wasn't a real word.

The talker replied, "You, are, in, danger. Somebody, is, out, to, get, you."

That scared her again. "Hoo? Wat Harmony do?"

Just then, her mother came in. "Lights out, honey. Let's put that away." She turned the talker off. Harmony resisted, but her mother put her to bed. "Goodnight, sweetie," Mrs. Miller said. As soon as she closed the door, an angry red glow filled the room.

* * *

Gabriel and his father did get a hotel room. It wasn't in the greatest condition, but neither of them cared. They were too busy laughing and talking to sleep. Gabriel was doing most of the talking. He had the feeling his father wouldn't want to say much more than what he said already at the apartment.

"I hope you don't mind that I spent some of my inheritance already."

"Of course not, son. That money was for you But what did you do with it?"

"Well, it paid for my first couple semesters at the university, as well as half a year's rent at my own apartment and a new bike."

"You don't ride a bike."

"It's a super bike, Papa. It has three wheels and a big basket in the back. It never tips over." Gabriel looked down. "I never learned how to drive either. I've tried, but I have problems staying on my side of the road. How did you manage?"

"It takes special therapy. If you want me to, I'll get it for you."

"I'll . . . I'll think about it, Father."

Michael beamed. "My little boy is growing up, being independent. It seems like only yesterday I was taking you home from the hospital. And how did you do in lycele?"

"Very well, Father. I was at the top of my grade."

"Bien! I had a feeling you were very smart. Your English is excellent!"

"Uh . . . Papa, about that. Something has been happening these past few days. When I hear people talk, I hear them speak in French. And when I talk to them, I speak in whatever language they speak. I don't know how it happened, it just happened."

"Oh son, magnifique!" (magnificent)

"Yeah. Sometimes I think it's rather amazing, but other times I'm ashamed. I don't know how I should feel."

"If I were you, I would feel proud. Do you know how long it takes to learn English? I still don't feel like I entirely mastered it, and I've been reading English books for over thirty years! The vocabulary is so extensive, and they are so many rules! Their adjectives always come before the nouns. That always feels backward to me! And yet you speak it with the greatest of ease."

"But what about my country? My French pride?"

"Son, we'll always know that you are proud to be from France, but it's not as great as they claim. I've seen the whole world, Gabriel, and I saw very little that set France apart. Every place has its own beauty and character."

"You know, someone told me earlier today that I am 'all things to all men.'"

"Like Paul."

"Do you think it's true?"

"If you make it true. Your friend may not have remembered how the rest of that verse goes, 'I become all things to all men that I might save some.'"

Gabriel smiled. Probably for the first time since he discovered his talent, he was proud of it. "Oh, Father! You have to see what else I can do!" He looked around the room for a big book, and he found a telephone book and the Gideon Bible. "I guess this will do. I think it might be more impressive if it were 'Moby Dick' or 'War and Peace' or something like that."

"I can take care of that." Michael put his hands on the cover of the phone book, closed his eyes, and in a flash it transformed into a copy of 'The Complete Works of Shakespeare.'"

"Is this really the book?"

"As I remember it. There may be some gaps."

"How long did it take you to read it?"

"It took me years to study every play."

"Watch this." Gabriel opened the book and flipped through the pages rapidly. He closed the book in about two minutes, and then he groaned and grabbed his head. "I've forgotten how much that hurts!"

"Well, what's so special about that? Surely you weren't reading it."

"Yes, I did. I'll prove it. Tell me to quote any passage you want, from any play."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "Alright. I'll try an easy one. Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 1, lines 57-61."

"'To be or not to be, that is the question: whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them. To die, to sleep–' That's the end of that line."

"Good. Alright, a little harder one this time. A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act 3, Scene 2, lines 110-115."

"Captain of our fairy band, Helena is here at hand. And the youth, mistook by me, pleading for a lover's fee. Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be!"

"Very good. Let's see." He pointed to a random passage. "Oh, here's a tough one, King Henry IV, Part I, Act 5, Scene 1, lines 129-133."

"Well, 'tis no matter; honor pricks me on. Yea, but how if honor prick me off when I come on? How then? Can honor set a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honor hath no skill of surgery then? No. What is honor?"

"Incredible! Oh my son, you are like a literary sponge!"

Gabriel was very tired after that stunt, so they went to bed. In the dark, Gabriel asked out loud, "Papa?"

"Yes son?"

"I haven't asked you much about what happened to you because I know it's been difficult."

"And I appreciate your restraint."

"Merci. But there is one thing I want to ask you."

"What is that?"

"You said you could explain my identifying your body in the morgue, but you never did. What is your explanation?

Michael turned on the bedside lamp and looked at Gabriel. "Well, it's the doing of the adult student I mentioned. She's dripping with charisma. You can't look at her without liking her. She could very easily persuade the most stubborn man to do whatever she needed. I'm a little ashamed to admit now, Gabriel, but I was a little glad when you said you didn't want to come with us to the concert, because I wanted to get to know her better as . . . a possible candidate for marriage."

Gabriel looked at him in astonishment. "You mean, it was a date?!"

"Well, I wasn't sure. I thought if I got to know more of what her personality was like, I might consider dating her. I assure you, if I knew then what I know now, I wouldn't have even considered it. She was working for them. I saw her every day after it happened, and I understood more of her tricks. Her charisma went so far that she could make you see what she wanted you to see. There were many times I tried to escape, and I saw a way out and took it, only to find I was still in the compound. She was toying with me. I didn't entirely believe that I escaped when I managed. I think perhaps she informed you about my 'death' and then as she stood next to you, you saw my 'body.' It was nothing more than an illusion."

"What did she look like?"

"Dark hair, rather tall and slender. She hailed from Ireland. Her name's Allison O'Brien."

"I remember her accent being strange. Most of that part is a blur. Well, thank you for telling me." He turned the lamp off, and they were silent for a while. Then Gabriel spoke up again, "Papa?"

"Yes son?"

"Do you want your shirt back?"

"No. No, it looks good on you, and . . . well, I don't feel the same way about Pink Floyd anymore."

"Why? You probably didn't get to hear much from them . . . wherever you were, and I'm sure you missed them since you didn't see the concert."

"Somebody there thought so, too," he said softly. "It was one of the worst nights of my life. It made me hate Pink Floyd forever."

"You don't want to talk about it?"

"Non."

Gabriel sighed. "D'accord. Bon nuit." (Good night)

But then Michael turned on the lamp again. "But perhaps I should. I guess it was about a month after I got there. They did all kinds of experiments on me, shots and other tests."

Gabriel nodded. "I know about that."

"You do?"

"I had some nightmares."

"Well, this was a nightmare. I think I went into a drug-induced sleep. But there was this moment when I was half-awake, you know how that feels?"

Gabriel nodded.

"And I heard somebody singing. I opened my eyes and saw an old man sitting above me, looking into my eyes. He was singing 'Comfortably Numb' very, very softly, just above a whisper. He was touching my head, rubbing my temples. His hands were so hot, like coals. I tried to squirm, roll over, get away. But he kept me still, kept touching my head. He didn't talk to me, didn't reprimand me for moving. He just kept singing. It disturbed me, but somehow I drifted off again. I never saw him again. Sometimes I still wonder if it was a dream. All I know is, after that they sat in front of a piano, and I started playing, and I couldn't stop. I started drawing, and I couldn't stop. I changed, all because of that man, that creepy man singing Pink Floyd. They didn't only take away my life and my son, they took away my passions. They made me hate Pink Floyd and . . . the man looked like Victor Hugo."

"That's terrible, Papa. I'm sorry."

"It's past now. I'm with you again, and I can start anew. Bon nuit."

* * *

Peter stayed up to watch the news and The Tonight Show after he put Hanami to bed. He felt like he needed a laugh, and Jaywalking night always seemed to pick up his spirits. He turned it off when he started to get tired. Just as he turned it off, there was a knock at the door. "Who could it be at this time of night?" The lock was louder and more insistent, and Peter yelled, "Alright, I'm coming!" He got up and opened the door. "What, you're not appearing out of thin air this time?"

"I thought about it, but I decided this was too important." The tone in Claude's voice was unlike one he had heard from Claude before. It was deeply serious.

"What is it?"

"You know our little friend? That little Japanese bird?"

"What about her?"

"It just occurred to me who she is. She's Nakamura's granddaughter!"

Peter laughed. "I think Hiro's a little young to–"

"Not Hiro, you idiot, Kaito!" Peter stared at him. "What, did it never occur to you that Hiro has a daddy?"

"How do you know him?"

"That goes back to a period in my life I really don't want to discuss. The point is, he's a very powerful man, in more ways than one if you know what I mean. And he's probably very ticked off that his granddaughter is missing. He might come after us. We gotta get her back home."

"Are you sure she's related to Hiro? I'm mean, if she's his granddaughter, that means Hiro's her . . ."

"He's not her dad."

"But then how's she–?"

"Kaito had more than one kid! As you Yanks like to say, 'Duh!'"

"He . . . really?"

"Don't feel too bad, mate. It's news to me, too. She told me Hiro's her uncle, and unlike you, I have the ability to put two and two together. Maybe you should learn to absorb that."

"Alright, I'll try to contact Hiro in the morning."

"Once again, think a little more! Japan's about 24 hours ahead of us, isn't it? If you call in the morning, it'll be close to midnight over there, wouldn't it?"

"Well, what am I going to do? I don't know how to contact Hiro except through his blog, and I don't really want to post all over the web that we have his niece. We're just going to have to ask her his number."

"I'm not so sure about that, mate. That French kid has a Japanese cellphone, and I'll wager good money that it's Hiro's. Just say the word, and I'll slip into his apartment and nick it for ya."

"Don't do that. I guess we just need to get that from him. I bet Ando's number's saved on it. He could probably help. And really, I think it would be better to wait until morning so we can tell her what's going on."

"Alright. It's your funeral." Claude vanished.

Peter stretched and yawned and started heading for his room. As he passed the room Hanami was in, he heard voices.

"Did you hear that? Did they say they're going to try to send me back home?"

"They don't know yet, Dear One. You just need to be patient. Do whatever you can to stay."

"Yeah, don't worry, love, I'll come around once I find out what's what."

"Claude?" Peter thought. "What's he doing in there?" Peter opened the door, but he saw Hanami alone, sleeping like a baby. He started to wonder if he was hearing things, but then he heard them again.

"Should I tell them?"

"Not yet."

"I think you should tell Gabriel."

"I said 'not yet.'"

"But he's part of it. He needs to know."

"He'll find out on his own."

"How? Have you found Sanjong yet?"

"No. Molly Walker would know, but I'm not sure where she is. Fine, but don't tell him everything."

Now Peter was really confused. The voice he heard just join the conversation was his own. But what were they talking about? He closed the door and walked up to bed. "Of course!" he thought as he lay down. "I wasn't actually hearing anyone. I was hearing her thoughts while she was dreaming. Matt's power must have activated by itself. But how did she know what Claude and I were talking about? And who's Sanjong?"

* * *

In the morning, Gabriel and Michael were getting ready for the day, brushing teeth, shaving, and all that. "I guess you didn't have a passport either when you came here," Gabriel observed.

"No, I didn't need one," Michael answered. "Why?"

"I was just wondering when and how we were going to go home."

"It'll be soon. We can start all over again. I just wish . . . "

"What Papa?"

"If there was only some way to forget all that I went through, to put it out of my mind forever."

Gabriel looked down at his shoes, trying to avoid his father's gaze.

"What's the matter, son?"

"Well, I . . . I met someone who might be able to . . ."

"To what? Make me forget?" He looked eagerly at Gabriel. "Who is he? Where did you see him? Oh, if he could do that, it would be such bliss!

"Papa . . . you can't go to him."

Michael turned to him, his eyes flashing with fury. "Son, what did you say?"

"It will be dangerous. That man works for an American spy. He thinks I'm in alliance with a killer. He thinks I'm a terrorist. Most of what he said to me is a blur because of what that man did. If you go to him, he might send me to jail."

"There's no reason he needs to know that I'm your father."

"They're spies, Father! They'll find out!"

"I won't release my name! I'll go in disguise if you want me to! Gabriel, don't you understand how important this is to me?"

"Is it more important than the life of your son?"

* * *

When the special ed school in Odessa opened, someone new approached the counter up front. "I'm here to work with the Miller girl."

"We haven't seen you before," the secretary said.

"I was just hired. I believe you'll find me in the system."

"Under the name. . . ?"

"O'Brien, Allison."

The secretary went through the files on her computer. "Oh, here you are. Well, the Millers ought to be here shortly. We usually put her in the playroom. Oh, and there's going to be a student doing volunteer work here from Union Wells High School, a young lady named . . . Claire."

Allison raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

* * *

Gabriel and Michael continued to argue about seeing the Haitian as they were leaving the hotel room. In the middle of one thought, Gabriel's hand brushed against his jeans pocket. "Huh? What's that?" he muttered. He pulled out Hiro's cellphone.

"What is that?" Michael said. "Did you get a cellphone?"

"It's not mine. An Asian friend gave it to me, said he'll come back for it." Gabriel gasped. "Oh noཀ"

"What's wrong?"

"He said he was going back to work with Hanami. That's his niece. But now she's in America, so he can't find her. We got to get in touch with–" Suddenly, Gabriel gave an even bigger gasp and ran into the nearest alley.

"What is it, son?"

Gabriel pulled Michael in closer, and whispered, "Papa, cachez-moi s'il vou plait!" (Hide me, please!)

"What? Why?"

Michael inched up to the street. "Do you see that man? With the dark hair and the baseball cap?"

"I see many such men."

"He tried to kill me yesterday. If he sees you, he'll try to kill you too. Please, do something to hide me!"

"I don't think I can, son."

"You did. Yesterday, I escaped from him when I called for help and became a dove. You make things become other things, so it must have been you who saved me."

"Oh, I remember hearing you scream, and I looked for you, but–"

"There's no time to talk about that now! We have to get away from him! Hide me!"

"Alright." Michael took a deep breath and put his hands on his son's head. There was a bright, turquoise glow from his fingers, and slowly he felt the boy grow smaller and smaller until he could fit into the palm of his hands. He opened his hand and saw a white mouse. "I did it! Oh, I hope I can undo it. Alright, Gabriel." He put the mouse down. "Be careful. Watch for feet."

The mouse squeaked affirmatively.

"If he's likely to come after me too, I guess I should do something to hide myself." He had an idea. He got down on his knees and held up his arms, concentrating on the picture in his head. Gradually, he felt his skin become thinner and thinner. Then the transformation was complete. He became a plastic bag, and all he needed was an updraft to send him into the street, and of course it wasn't long before one came.

* * *

Peter didn't get much sleep. He just kept turning over and over again what Hanami and the other voices said in his mind. It all confused him so much. He was on his second cup of coffee when Claude reappeared. "So where are they?"

"They're not here yet. I called the hotel. They said they checked out about half an hour ago. Listen, this isn't going to be easy."

"Well, who said it was?"

"I mean, she's not going to want to leave. I heard her talking last night, just after you left."

"She was up?"

"No, I . . . ok, I was hearing her talk while she was asleep. You know, it was her thoughts, while she was dreaming. And it, I heard not just her but . . . other people. And they were all telling her to do whatever she could to stay. And there was something else, something she wanted to tell us, but they won't let her."

"So you're saying she's a little schizophrenic, and so am I?" Peter gave him an odd look. "I never got that joke either."

"Well it's . . . here's the thing, it's people we knowཀ I heard Hiro. I heard me. I heard youཀ In fact, that's really what set me off. It really confused me that you just left and then you were in there saying exactly the opposite"

Claude shrugged. "I wouldn't put it past me. I've done something like that before, but . . . never mind. Listen mate, what did you say she was doing?"

"She was asleep. She was dreaming!"

"Yeah. Well, I think there's something we have to ask ourselves, then."

"What's that?"

Claude leaned over and said softly, "Who's really the crazy one here, hmmm?"

Peter frowned. He hated when Claude accused him like that.

Claude leaned back and sighed. "What time is it?"

"I think it's about 10:00."

Claude shook his head and said with frustration, "This kid's taking too long!" He vanished, and the door slammed. Peter called after him, but he made no reply.

At that moment, he heard the hum of the internet connection. He went into another room and saw Hanami sitting in front of his computer. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know," she answered.

"Tell him you're almost done," Peter heard Hiro's voice say in his mind.

"I'm almost done," Hanami repeated.

"Where is your Uncle Hiro?" Peter asked.

Hanami slowly turned to him and said slowly, "Tokyo, Japan."

"Is he also here? With you?"

"He said . . . he is . . . always with me."

Peter moved around and looked at the computer. "Isn't that your uncle's blog?"

Hanami looked at him. Neither one of them heard a response.

"Are you looking for Sanjong?"

"I am almost done," she repeated and went back to work. Peter rubbed his temple. What is going on here?

* * *

Being a rodent on the New York City street was a lot harder than Gabriel imagined. Just because he had four feet didn't make him move any faster, because everything was bigger and it made him feel like he had much more ground to cover. And it was very difficult not to get stepped on. What Gabriel would give for a "Don't Walk" sign on the sidewalk! He thought maybe a woman would see him and scream, and the commotion would give him a free pathway, but this was New York. Nobody noticed him.

Michael was having trouble as well. He didn't consider that he wouldn't have control over his direction, and people often kicked him out of the way, sending him even further off course. Then he had just the luck to get stuck on Sylar's shoe.

The murderer stopped where he stood, looked down, lifted his foot, and picked up the plastic in a wad. He stood there for a moment staring at it, crumbling it with his fist. Finally, he said in a whisper, "Filthy city," and moved toward the nearest waste basket.

Now, it just so happened that Gabriel was nearby. He was being really still as he saw the bad man standing over him. Gabriel saw his father transform, so he knew that Sylar had him in his grasp. So the mouse ran toward Sylar and bit him on the ankle!

"YOW!" Sylar cried out. His fist loosened, and he let the plastic bag go. Sylar reached down, pulled down his sock, and touched the place where he felt pain. He brought his finger up and glared at the blood. Then, he noticed a mouse scurrying on the other side of the sidewalk. "I'LL GET YOU!"

Gabriel ran for life as Sylar chased him. It was quite a site to see a man going against foot traffic on the sidewalk of New York chasing a mouse. It was almost funny. Yet, Gabriel was so terrified. He wanted to stop, but he feared that if he slowed down, the bad man would catch him.

And his heart almost stopped when somebody did catch him.

"You again!"

"Yeah. Guess what? No two-for-one deal today either."

Next thing Sylar knew, he had a bloody nose. Gabriel felt himself being carried away. It was a while before he was put down again.

"It's alright mate, he's gone. Your wee heart was pounding a mile a minute down there. Now, why don't you just relax? That's it. Take a deep breath."

Gabriel felt himself slowly stretching out, and he knew he was changing back.

"Sorry about the god in the machine, mate, but it couldn't be helped."

"You mean deus ex machina?"

"Yeah. Isn't that what I just said?"

"Probably. How, how did you know that it was me?"

"Who in their right mind, in New York City, would chase a rat down the street? It was like a ruddy cartoonཀ Of course, if Sylar's involved in anything, it sends up a red flag."

"Oh."

"You got your breath back now? Good. Now, I'm going to help you up." Gabriel held up his hand, and he felt it grabbed, and he was pulled up. He saw they were on Deveux's rooftop. "Now, let's go."

Gabriel looked around. "Where's Papa?"

"No time for him. Let's go."

"What?"

"I said there's no time for him. I thought you automatically translate everything!"

"I do, but . . . how can you say that? Yesterday you were telling me that you knew how I felt, and that I should embrace my father!"

"No, I plainly remember telling you that I didn't care about him! Were you not listening?"

"I believed my father to be dead for four years, four long, lonely, depressing, angst-ridden years! He came back from the dead and back into my life yesterday. You're telling me just to leave him again?"

"Why? Do you still need him to hold your hand while you cross the street?"

"Don't you know anything about what loneliness is? Oh wait, I bet you don't!" Gabriel laughed. "Of course you don't. How ironic. You're invisible, and you probably have more friends than I do. I bet you can count them on both of your hands, maybe even use some of your toes if you have to."

Gabriel suddenly felt the scruff of his shirt get grabbed, and he was thrown against a wall. He could smell the man's breath and felt a little bit of spit when he talked, so he knew the invisible man was right in his face. "I don't think you understand, so let me spell it out for you. I'm a misanthrope. I hate humanity. I don't have friends. I don't need friends. I don't want friends. I don't mind invading people privacy or taking their property because nobody deserves it. And I don't care what happens to you or your daddy. All I care about is my survival, and that's why I need you to come with me. Is that clear?"

The man put Gabriel down roughly. Gabriel straightened out his shirt, shook out the shock, and looked up. "I envy you," he said softly.

There was a long pause, as though evidently the invisible man couldn't think of what to say to that.

"But until I can reach that point, I have to go find my papa. I'll meet you over at Peter's." Gabriel headed down the stairs.

"Fine," the invisible man called after him, "but don't expect me to save you again!"

"You don't have to!" Gabriel yelled back up at him.

* * *

In the middle of first period, Claire was paged to the office. She was mentally working up an excuse when she saw her Dad standing there. "Claire-Bear, I already signed you out. Get in the car."

"What's up, Dad?"

"I'm going to treat you to Whataburger for lunch."

"Oh, that sounds good!" Claire said loudly and over-eagerly. She knew something else was going on. As soon as they got in the car, she said, "So what's really happening?"

"That girl you're looking after, the autistic girl, is her name Harmony Miller?"

"Yes?"

"She's in trouble." He started the car. "I received a very cryptic message from an old friend of mine. It said that they are planning to take her."

"Who? The organization?"

Bennet nodded. "You remember that guy I told you about, from England? I just heard, he took Thompson's place. So of course he's starting Operation: North Point up here in the states."

"Operation North Point? What's that?"

"They take by force any autistic people that they think might manifest and send them to another location for some sort of rehabilitation. I can't remember all the details."

"Why didn't they tell her parents?"

"Because it's not the kind of rehabilitation that they'd approve of! We have to hide her."

"What do we do?"

"We get her out of the school before they do. We'll make sure she's safe and deliver her to her parents." He looked at her. "Buckle up, young lady!" he said sternly.

"Why? It's not like I need a seatbelt."

"Maybe not, but I could still get a ticket." As soon as they got to the school, Bennet opened the door and then stopped. "That's Allison O'Brien," he whispered. "We have to move, now!"

* * *

Gabriel found his father caught in a drain grate. Once he got free, Michael turned back. "I got a crick in my shoulder," he moaned. "I'm too old for this."

"Well, let's get to Peter's. Maybe he'll have some aspirin."

As soon as they got to Peter's, their host had them sit down. "OK, here's the deal. It's come to our attention that Hanami is related to very important people in Japan. We're just worried that somebody's going to get bothered and think she's kidnapped or something."

"I was thinking along that line, too," Gabriel said. "Hiro's her uncle, you see. He was with me, but then he left because he wanted to spend time with Hanami. He's probably all confused if he's up there and she's not. He left with me his cell–"

"Let me see that. I know one of Hiro's friends. Maybe if I call him I'll figure this out." He started punching the menu, but there were so many options. "Games, recent calls, blog, email, voice mail, text messaging, come one, where are the contacts? Aha! Here we are, Ando." Peter pushed the send button and held the phone to his ear.

There were a couple of rings, and then an annoyed voice said, "Hiro, why did you waste your phone call on me? You know your father wants the confession!"

"Uh, this is–"

"And how did they allow you to take your phone into prison?"

"Prison?!"

"Huh? Who is this?"

"Ando, it's me, Peter Petrelli."

"Peter? When did you learn Japanese?"

"It's another ability I absorbed recently. No time to explain. Hiro's in jail?"

"Sadly, yes."

"What for?"

"It's very bad. His niece is missing. Evidence say Hiro took her away. His family is very shamed. I hear that his niece is hikikomori."

"What? That last word didn't translate."

"Oh. It's hard to explain. They are people who don't leave the house because . . . their minds won't let them."

"She's . . . agoraphobic?"

"No, not quite."

"Uh, well, what's her name?"

"Why? You don't think you can find her, do you?"

"I might be looking right at her. What's her name?"

"Hanami."

"Yeah, she's here. Absolutely, she's safe. No, no, we didn't kidnap her. We thought she ran away. In fact, we'll send her back to Japan as soon as possible."

"NO!" Hanami screamed. "Restais!"

"She says she wants to stay," Gabriel said.

"Yeah, I heard her," Peter said. He put the phone down and knelt down to her level. "Hanami, sweetie, you can't stay. Don't you understand? Your uncle's in big trouble. If you stay here, he'll stay in jail! Don't you know what that is?"

"STAY!" Hanami was screaming and crying and throwing her arms around. Then things in the room started to fly around, and lights blinked on and off. Peter got a lot of feedback on his phone, and he dropped it as though it shocked him.

"Alright!" he said over her screams. "Alright. Just calm down. We'll talk about it more." He reached out to give her a hug then withdrew a little, not sure if she was uncomfortable about touch. Hanami straightened up, and things began to settle. Peter picked up the phone and told Ando that he'll call him back.

But then Gabriel came over and knelt down to Hanami's level. "Por quoi?" (Why) he asked. "Why must you stay?"

Hanami gave him a look of astonishment as if she didn't believe he would ask her.

"S'il vous plait cherie, tell me."

Hanami looked in his face as though he was the only person in the room and whispered two words:

"The circle."


	9. Rules of the Game

Chapter 9: Rules of the Game

Peter Petrelli's Apartment

Gabriel sat there in stunned silence staring at Hanami. He felt like a light had come on in his soul. "Bien sur!" he finally whispered. "Le cercle, c'est ca!" (The circle, that's it!)

"What circle?" Michael asked.

"I have no idea, but I just have a feeling. It's why I'm here. This is my purpose. It's everything. I'm part of it. I just know. My heart is telling me." He held Hanami's hand and didn't mind the glow. "I'll help you find the circle. I'll do everything I can. We'll look everywhere around the world for it."

"Wait," Peter said. "What about Hiro?"

Gabriel looked at him as though Peter was from another planet. "What about Hiro?"

"HE'S IN JAIL! Do you want him to be in jail?"

"He's a capable man. He can take care of himself."

"How can you say that? Don't you like Hiro?"

"I do, but this is more important. This can change the world. Besides, you told them that Hanami's safe with us. That should be enough to–"

"That's not going to do anything until we send her over there. And since she doesn't want to leave, he's still going to be in trouble. We're going to be trouble. I mean, this could be like that Cuban boy some years ago."

"Then Hiro could just use his powers, can't he? Bend time and space and escape?"

"His powers can be very unpredictable sometimes. I've been reading his blog, and sometimes when he wants to use them, they don't work. Once he almost lost them altogether. Sometimes he tries to stay in the present and he winds up in the future. Then there was one time he meant to go back in time just a few days, and he went back six months. Last time I saw him, his powers activated automatically, and I later learned he spent a while in feudal Japan."

Gabriel gave him a weird look.

"Look, if you're not going to help, I'm going to save him myself. I'm not used to using Hiro's powers, but I can try. I think I can do it."

Gabriel turned to Michael. "What do you think we should do, Papa?"

"Well, I do agree that this poor man needs help, especially after all he did to help you, but I believe he can take care of it. I'll do whatever you see as best."

"Great. Let's go!"

"No!" Peter said loudly. "I don't want you to go looking for this circle, whatever it is, until I get back with him. That goes for all three of you. And you–" (he turned around and pointed at Claude who was sneaking up behind him) "make sure they all stay put."

"Oh no! I'm not a nanny!" Claude yelled.

"And I don't need an au pair!" Gabriel yelled. "I'm a seventeen-year-old university student!"

"Well, you're acting like a child right now!" Peter suddenly checked himself. That sounded too much like something his father would say. The place became quiet. "Listen," he said calmly, "I'm not saying that you can't ever look for that circle, but we need to make sure Hiro is safe first, as well as this little girl. Do you understand?"

"I guess so," Gabriel said softly.

"And as for you," Peter said pointing at Claude's chest, "I'm not asking you to baby sit, just check in on them every once in a while to make sure they aren't causing mischief."

"Well, that's where it always starts, but–"

"Look, you're the one who got me all hot and bothered about this, and you seemed the most concerned. So you better do your part!"

"Peter, a word please," Michael said. Peter followed him into another room. Hanami quietly went into the bathroom.

Gabriel sighed very loudly. He nearly collapsed on the couch, but then he had another idea. "I'm going to take a walk. Not far," he said loudly. He went out and closed the door.

Claude sighed frustratingly. "I guess I'll go after him," he said just as loudly.

"You do that," Peter called. Then he looked at Michael. "Alright, Professor, what can I do for you?"

"May I borrow some of your clothes?"

"What for?"

"My son had a run-in with a man who can make people forget things. I want to see him so that I can forget all that's happened, but Gabriel thinks that the same man believes that he's a terrorist or in league with a murderer, and he doesn't want me to go. I'm hoping he's just paranoid. I still want to see him, but to appease my son, I need to be disguised."

"Well, why do you need my clothes?"

"It's not like I brought my whole wardrobe when I came to America. I must borrow someone else's clothes or get some more from a homeless shelter."

"Why don't you just use your powers?"

"I told you already, they don't work."

"You told me that you can't transform into an animal. Haven't you tried transforming into another person?"

"No, I . . . I haven't really seen the need. Can they work that way?"

"I'm sure they can! I tell you what, I can test it for you. What person who you like me to try to change into?"

"Uh . . . show me what the invisible man looks like."

"Claude? Sure." Peter closed his eyes. He started to change a little bit. His hair grew a little, and he started to grow a beard, but then he disappeared. "Oh!" he said as he came back into view. "That's not going to work."

"Why not?"

"When I think about Claude to picture what he looks like, I start to imitate his power. I'd have to do somebody who doesn't have powers."

"Uh . . . Victor Hugo?"

Peter laughed. "I don't know what he looks like."

"Well, in the portraits I've seen, he's old, has a white beard, looks a little like Pere Noel." (Santa Claus)

"Sorry, I really don't have time. You just try to practice it, try it out on your own. I bet you can transform into something really complex that even your son won't recognize you. Just like a character out of Shakespeare, or uh, that Greek poem, 'The Odyssey.'"

"Oh. Excellent. Thank you for your suggestion, Peter. I think I can do it."

"Yeah." He started going out, but he doubled back. "Oh, but this guy. I haven't officially met him, but I've heard some on him. I know he's Haitian, and he wears this necklace with a weird symbol on it. He is kinda like a spy, but he's a good spy. He works for a good man, a friend of mine, Noah Bennet. If either of them ask questions about your son, you can tell them that I think he's cool. That'll probably be good enough for them."

"OK. Thank you."

* * *

Claire and Noah Bennet–Special Ed School, Odessa, Texas

"That's Allison O'Brien," Bennet whispered. "We have to move, now!"

"What do we do?" Claire whispered.

"You get the girl before she does. Hopefully, she hasn't connected with Harmony yet."

"What if she has?"

"It's gonna make things a lot harder."

Harmony got a message through her talker. "She, is, coming. Get, outside."

Harmony dropped her computer and ran out of the playroom. "Hi Harmony!" a cheerful voice said to her. She looked up and saw a woman who looked nice. "Ooh, you look so pretty. Come with me. I'll fix you a snack."

"Harmony?" another voice said loudly. "You remember me? Claire? I gave you those shoelaces! Come here, Harmony."

The nice woman said something else, but then she touched Harmony's hand. It's that feeling again! The girl moaned loudly. Not knowing what to do, she ran out past all of them, out to the door, sprouted wings and flew away.

Claire watched her fly. "What do we do now?"

"We follow her. Come on!" Bennet called, and they got back in the car.

* * *

Gabriel went out to the Deveux roof. He felt peaceful up here, alone, just above the big city. Here, he could think.

And he hoped he could think alone, but he soon heard footsteps.

"You have a nice view up here," Gabriel said nonchalantly.

"You knew it was me?" he heard Claude say. "I must be losing my touch."

"Well, who else would be coming up here?"

"Good point. You're going to stay up here?"

"I was planning to. I just need to think. I guess if I'm not going to be alone, I'd rather talk to you than anybody, because with you I don't have to worry about eye contact."

"Er . . . alright. I gotta tell ya though, that was cold. You see, that's the reason I'm a misanthrope. A person you call a friend is in trouble, and you don't help him. You just go off on your own selfish pursuit."

"Why are you so concerned about this?"

"It's not really Hiro that concerns me. It's the girl, or more accurately her family."

"Well, maybe she needs to be here."

"What for? The circle? Is that what you're looking for?"

Gabriel's head suddenly swung over to a decoration on the roof. "That's more of an oval, don't you think?"

"Circle, oval, sphere, ellipse, IT'S ROUND!"

"I don't think it's . . . it feels more like an allegory."

"You don't know a thing about this circle."

"Yes, but I feel like I have to pursue it or I'll lose my chance. Besides, what can I do about Hiro anyway? I'm not strong, fast, or particularly clever."

"You can speak Japanese."

"Oh great, I can beg for mercy in the native tongue when I'm caught."

"What makes you think that's all you can do?"

"You'll never understand. You're NT."

"What did you say?"

"I said you're NT!"

He felt his shirt get grabbed. "It's best not to be vague with an Englishman. You could end up with a black eye. Should I be flattered or insulted?"

"Maybe both. It just means neurologically typical."

He felt his shirt let go. "So . . . you're saying I'm sane."

"I'm saying you're normal."

Claude laughed loud about that. "I guess I will be flattered. That's the highest compliment anyone's ever paid me." He chuckled again. "He says I'm normal. I have no visible molecules, and I'M NORMAL!"

"Socially you are. You may not like people, but at least you understand them. You can keep up with all the ridiculous social mores and know what's appropriate behavior. You know when people are being literal and when they're being figurative or sarcastic. You just know all the rules of the game. And of course, you're socially grounded. You're not shy. You always know what to say. You know the secret cures for the cancers of the soul. You all do. So does Hiro and Peter and Georgette at home and pretty much everybody else in my life. And I just have to figure it out. I try to pretend to be normal, and it never works."

"Is that why you say you envy me?"

"In some ways. What I really envy was what you said. 'I don't have friends. I don't need friends. I don't want friends.' I don't have many friends. I don't particularly want friends, but I need friends. Without friends, my heart aches. I wish I didn't need people, but you have no idea how that feels. That's why I envy you."

"You said you were seventeen, right?"

"Oui, monsieur."

He felt a finger poke him square in the chest. "I've been coping with invisibility for sixteen years. That's right, one year shy of you being born. You just try that for sixteen years. Heck, you even try for that one year that I'm lacking, and you just tell me I don't know about loneliness."

"But you said–"

"I had absolutely no one to talk to. I felt like Frankenstein's monster, from the book you know, just a voyeur of human life, no longer a participant. Even when I decided humanity was not worth it anymore, I felt lonely. I felt like an alien."

"Yeah, I know how that is. We're not that different, I guess. So, what did you do?"

"I learned that I'm lonely when I'm bored. So I have to keep myself occupied. That's why I take care of pigeons."

"Pigeons?"

"Nobody else does."

"Well, I suppose that's true." Gabriel sighed.

"And hey mate, I'll tell you secret I've learned from watching people."

"What is it?"

He felt the man come closer, he could almost feel the stubble of his beard. He heard him whisper in his ear, "Everyone talks to themselves. Everyone's mad."

Gabriel looked out at the city, "Well, thank you for that assessment Monsieur Cheshire Cat."

To Gabriel's delight, Claude laughed. Gabriel almost wondered if he could see his smile. Gabriel laughed too, then he said in a more subdued voice, "I guess I should do something for Hiro."

* * *

Hiro Nakamura–Tokyo Prison

Hiro was alone in his jail cell, and he was still crying. Other criminals were calling him "The Crybaby," but he just couldn't stop thinking about Hanami. A guard or two, though they never said it out loud, watched him and thought he must be innocent. Nobody guilty would carry this on for so long.

Then there was a small whisper, "Uncle Hiro?"

Hiro lifted his head, and through his tear-filled eyes, he saw her standing in front of him.

"HANAMI!" He ran up to hug her, but he found himself clutching air. "Hanami? Are you a . . . ghost?"

"You're dreaming me, Uncle Hiro. Don't worry. I'm dreaming you, too."

"Dream? So, you're not real?"

"Yes. I'm okay. I'm with your friends in America."

"I told you I'd take you to them someday!"

"You did. It's when your eyes weren't shiny."

"Eyes? Shine–" Hiro touched his face and understood. "My glasses. So . . . I see." It was his future self.

"It makes me sad that you're here in this bad place."

"Yes. Hanami, if you come home, I can get out."

"I can't come home. You say I can't until I find the circle."

"What circle?"

"Oh, I found the first one!"

"The first what?"

"He's a very nice boy named Gabriel. It's just like you said. I knew right away. Now I know how to find the others."

"I don't understand, Hanami."

"Yes, you do. Or you will when you're many tomorrows away."

"Oh, did Gabriel find the Piano Man?"

"Don't know. There's an older man with him he calls 'Papa.'"

"Papa? I thought he said his father was dead."

Hanami shrugged.

"I've never heard you talk so much."

"I talk good in my head."

"Why haven't you done this before?"

"I wanted to, but you said, 'Not until it's time. To everything there's a season and a time to every purpose.'"

"Oh. Will you do this every day? It will make me much happier if I can see you."

"Mr. Petrelli is going to help you get out."

"Which Mr. Petrelli? Peter or Flying Man?"

"The one with the line on his face, only he doesn't have a line now."

"The line . . .? Oh, his scar!"

Suddenly, there was a bang on the bars. "Talking to yourself, Crybaby?" someone yelled.

"Leave me alone!" Hiro yelled back. He turned back to Hanami, but she was gone.

* * *

Bennet and Claire kept following Harmony as she flew. Allison was following too, but Bennet started speeding to beat her.

"Weren't you the one worried about getting a ticket a while ago?" Claire asked.

"I'll tell the cops that a human life is at stake."

Luckily, they weren't ever pulled over, and they lost Allison after a while. They found Harmony in a tree, hugging the trunk.

"Harmony, come down, sweetheart!" Bennet called up. "Don't be afraid. We're going to take you home."

But she held fast. Claire then started climbing the tree up to her. "Hey Harmony? Where'd your wings go? Oh, it's ok. I know how it feels." She climbed closer to the girl. "Now, I need you to get a hold of me." She reached up to her, but Harmony groaned and squirmed away. "Come on, honey. I know it's hard, but I need you to hold on, real tight, so I can get you down without hurting you."

She was still reluctant, but with more of Claire's consoling, she let go. Claire got the girl into her arms and held her very close. "Ready? Close your eyes." Claire closed hers too, and she jumped.

"I got her," she heard her father say. "You ok?"

Claire groaned. She heard a few snaps on the landing. She rubbed her leg, snapped it together, then popped her ankle back into place. "Yeah, I think so. What about her?"

"She's shaken up, obviously, but she's not hurt."

"Now what?"

"We got to take her home and explain."

* * *

For a while, Gabriel was quiet, just looking out at the city. He heard footsteps and this time looked back. "Pete!" he heard Claude's voice say. "Nice to see you all in one piece." He chuckled.

"I keep telling you, that's not funny," Peter muttered.

"Peter," Gabriel said. "Monsieur Rains and I have just been talking. I think I should do something to help Hiro. He helped me get this far. I probably ought to return the favor."

"Well, I'm glad you decided to have a change of heart about that, but I was just doing some thinking of my own. I decided it's best that I go alone."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I mean, I was worried for a minute because I don't know Japanese, but then I remembered. I absorbed your ability! And I'll do fine."

"Is there nothing I can do, then?"

"Well, you can go back and take care of Hanami. Just watch her. I think Hiro would want that."

"OK. I can do that."

"But I'm serious. I don't want you going out on your circle journey, not until we have this resolved."

"How long do you think it's going to take?"

"Well, I got a couple of plans. I think the best thing is just to go to Kaito himself and explain everything. I probably ought to watch him for a little while, just to make sure he'll be open to reason. Ando'll probably help. If that doesn't work, I got a Plan B. That one's going to be riskier, but I think it'll work. I just need to warn you, though, if that's the case it's probably going to be a while before I come back."

Gabriel nodded. "Alright."

"I think everything will be fine. And you'll find your circle soon. Just give me time." Peter took a deep breath and stood up straight. "Alright, here it goes." He shut his eyes, but then quickly opened them again. "Hey, do you happen to know how Hiro's powers work?"

"In Chandra Suresh's book, he says it requires a great deal of concentration on the place and on the time. Hiro looked like he was tensing every muscle in his body."

"Alright." Peter shut his eyes again and thought, "What do I know about Tokyo? Well, there's that huge tower, a lot of shinto-looking buildings, bright lights, Hello Kitty stores, Pokemon stores, tons of people. OK, that's what I gotta think about, and Hiro, and the present. Wow, that's a lot of stuff to keep my mind on. You can do it, Peter. You can do it."

Peter clenched his teeth and his fists. He made his face tighter, and then he faded out of sight.

"Is he really gone?" Gabriel asked

"Well, if he's invisible, he's gotten better at it 'cause I can't see him,"

"Then I suppose I should go hold up my side of the bargain." He started climbing down the stairs.

"Excuse me," a weak voice said as soon as Gabriel stepped down at the bottom. A hunched-over old man with skin red by the sun approached Gabriel. "Have you the time, son?"

Gabriel hastily looked at his watch. "It's almost 2:00, sir."

"Thank you, bless you," the man answered. Gabriel walked away. The man hid and then slowly turned into Michael. "He didn't recognize me," he whispered. "It works!"

* * *

When Peter opened his eyes, he found himself standing on Tokyo Tower. He looked across to the city and found a huge sign flashing the date. OK, it was a day off, but he's on the other side of the world now. He smiled in satisfaction that he managed it. Then he closed his eyes again. "Claude," he thought to himself, and then he disappeared. "Nathan," he thought again. For a second, he could see his brother's face, and then a brilliant flash of light. "No!" he thought. "Don't think about that! Whatever you do, don't think about that." He took another breath and focused on another memory. Then he jumped off the tower and flew away. "Hiro, here I come!"

* * *

"What hath God wrought," Mr. Miller whispered.

"What do we do?" Mrs. Miller asked.

"The safest thing to do is not to let her go back to that school for a while," Bennet replied.

"But she has to! The state makes her go there!"

"If that's the case, don't worry about it. I'll make arrangements. Is it possible for you to go into hiding?"

"I don't know," Mr. Miller replied. "I'm a minister, a rather public and respected man. We're expecting Mohinder Suresh to speak at my congregation in a matter of days."

"Oh honey, maybe you can ask him some questions about this," Mrs. Miller whispered.

"I'm not sure what all Professor Suresh can answer," Bennet said. "This is a new field for him. We need to protect your daughter."

"She could stay with us for a while," Claire spoke up. "We don't live far, and Dad has connections."

"I don't think that's wise right now."

"Then what do we do?"

"I need to do some more research. I've been told of a place for Harmony, and it sounds as though it is a sanctuary. My knowledge about it is limited, and I'll find out what I can. In the meantime, try to lay low. I will call some friends, and Claire and I will do what we can to keep little Harmony safe."

"Yes. Thank you," Mr. Miller nodded

Hannah got up to leave, but Mrs. Miller said, "Wait! Mr. Bennet, that sanctuary you told us of, what do you know about it? What is it called?"

Bennet answered, "All the message said was, 'Her place is in the Circle.'"

* * *

"Why?" she cried.

"He needs to learn a lesson in trust," her uncle answered. "It's better he learn it sooner rather than later."

"But he's so nice. This is bad. It's bad for me to do it to him."

"It will be all right, Dear One. We'll be here the whole time. Nothing's going to happen to him."

She felt a hand on her shoulder and a comforting voice said in her ear, "It's like I always say—you have to push the baby bird out of the nest if you want it to fly."

Hanami opened her eyes and looked across the room. Gabriel was just coming into the apartment. He sighed, but then a curious look crossed his face. He went across the room and picked up a picture on top of TV. He stared at it as he started pacing by the big window.

"Now."

Hanami felt a push from inside her that went out and pushed him. She watched as Gabriel fell down to the streets below.

To be continued . . .


	10. Good Intentions

Chapter 10: Good Intentions

Peter Petrelli's Apartment

Gabriel was almost too frightened to think straight, but he managed to call out for help. Just as suddenly as Hanami had pushed him out, she sent out her powers to pull him back. It seemed to come out like a rope, and she could feel it tie to his wrists. She had the other end in her hands, but it was not enough. She leaned forward. "Ah! He's so heavy."

"We got you," her uncle replied as he and Mr. Rains grabbed her shoulders.

"Heave!" Mr. Rains said, and the two pulled her back.

Meanwhile, Gabriel noticed he wasn't falling all the sudden. He looked up and could vaguely see a band of yellow light around his wrists dangling from a window above him, the window he fell out of. He wondered if he could touch it. He reached up and grabbed it, and suddenly it turned green. He noticed his hands were glowing blue. It felt just like a rope. He started remembering physical education and started climbing up.

"By George, I think he's got it!" Mr. Rains exclaimed.

"Good. That will make things easier. Now Hanami, I don't want you to let go until I tell you, okay?"

"Hai," she nodded.

Gabriel climbed up to the balcony, and Hanami was the first thing he saw. As he caught his breath, he came inside and approached her. "Hanami? Did . . . did you . . . ?"

"Gabriel!"

Gabriel looked up and saw an Asian man wearing dark clothes and carrying a sword standing right behind Hanami.

"Qui etes vous?"

"It's me, Gabriel, Hiro."

"What? Non, cette impossible! Hiro's incarcerated in Japan. And besides, you don't look anything like him."

"I am not the Hiro you know, but I assure you, I am your friend."

"So you're saying . . . you're another person named Hiro?"

A disembodied voice chuckled and said, "Bit slow, isn't he?"

"Shh!" Hiro sternly ordered.

"Monsieur Rains?" Gabriel said.

Hanami looked next to Hiro, and a man appeared out of thin air. He had a rather long beard and mustache kinda Confucius-style, and he wore flowing, colorful robes and carried a staff.

"OK, the hobo look was bad enough, but what's with the Gandalf ensemble?"

"This is how she sees me," he answered, "and believe me, I'm not complaining. I mean, it's not as bad as--" But then Hiro gave him a sharp look. "Right. And by the way, I'm not Gandalf. I'm Howl."

"Hurlement? What kind of name is that for a wizard?"

"Don't you watch anime? It's Miyazaki, 'Howl's Moving Castle'!"

"Enough," Hiro said calmly. "We don't have time for this."

"What's going on exactly?" Gabriel asked.

"Yes Uncle Hiro, what is happening?" Hanami asked. "Why are you talking to him?"

"It's ok, Dear One. I know what I'm doing."

"Cherie?" Gabriel said. "That's what I call her."

The Oriental man gave him a small, secret smile. "I know."

"Uncle Hiro—" Hanami pleaded

"Quiet," he whispered to her. "Let me talk to him." He looked back at the boy. "Gabriel, we're both from the future. We visit Hanami on a regular basis in her mind to help her control her powers."

"In her mind? How do you pull that off?"

"She lets us in. Now, I just have a few things I need to say to you. We don't have much time," Hiro began.

Gabriel chuckled. "If you really are Hiro, than that's a lie. With you, we have all the time in the world."

"Don't you remember what I told you about the time continuum being very delicate?"

"Yes, I remember."

"This is one of those things, but I fear if it's ignored the consequences can be devastating. Gabriel, you need to go with Mohinder to Texas."

"Why is Mohinder going to Tex—oh, the symposium at that church! Well, why wouldn't I want to go to that? I've been interested in it since I first heard of it!"

"Some things are going to happen that will test you—I can't say much more than that. But listen, you must learn to trust who he trusts. Put aside all your anger and prejudices."

"But why wouldn't I . . . ? Mohinder is like a mentor to me. He's my hero . . . uh, no offence."

"It's understood."

"Look," Claude spoke up, "I know it's going to be hard because I used to know those people, and it's not quite like they've turned over a new leaf yet. You just got to hang in there. They'll lead you to the enemy."

"I can't leave yet. Peter told us to stay here until he came back from getting you," (he looked at Hiro) "out of prison."

"As I recall," Claude replied, "Peter said he didn't want you going out looking for the Circle. He didn't say not to leave."

"And what about the Circle?" Gabriel said.

"Believe it or not, a lot of it is closer than you think," Hiro answered. "There is someone who can give you the answers you seek. I'll find him for you. I just need to find the person who knows where he is."

"But what is it? What does it do? How does it do it? And who is this guy?"

Hiro just smiled again. "You'll understand one day."

"But--"

Hiro patted Hanami shoulder and whispered, "Let go." At that, Hanami made the rope vanish, and Hiro and Claude disappeared with it. Even Hanami couldn't see them anymore.

Gabriel shook his head and looked back down at the picture he was holding. "That ruined my train of thought," he muttered. It was the woman in the picture that caught his eye, the woman standing next to Peter and another man, smiling very big, dressed in fancy clothes, a woman in a bridal gown on his arm. But this was another woman who looked rather old and had short, dark hair. Gabriel was sure that he'd seen her before. He'd only seen her once in his life, but he'd never forget it. He looked back up at Hanami. "Have you seen Papa anywhere?" She shook her head. "Did he leave you alone?" he whispered. She shook her head again. "So he's here?" She shrugged. "Huh. Well, whenever I find him, I gotta ask him about this. I guess I better find Mohinder too."

* * *

Ando–Yamagato Industries

Ando's phone rang again while he was at work. He saw on his ID a telephone number he didn't recognize. He answered.

"Ando, it's me," a voice said.

"Peter Petrelli? What is it?"

"I told you I'd call you back."

"I tried to tell the police that Hanami was in America. They wouldn't listen."

"Let's not worry about that now. Tell me, what do you know about Hiro's father, Kaito?"

"Oh, he's a very stern man, good business man. Powerful and . . . scary."

"Do you think he'd be open to reason?"

"Well, Hiro managed it, almost. But now would not be a good time. I'm afraid if you told him the truth, he'd come down on you."

"Where can I find him?"

"Uh . . . I don't know his address."

"What about where you work? I did some research, and I found out that Kaito's not only Hiro's dad, he's his boss. That means he's your boss too, right?"

"Oh, yes. I think his office is on the top floor. It's a big office, right next to Kimiko's."

"Kimiko?"

"Oh, Hiro's sister. She's executive of the company. She's also's Hanami's mother."

"I see."

"Why do you want to talk to him?

"I just think if I can reason with Kaito and straighten out this mess, that will be the best thing. Until then I should just watch him and see what the situation is. So where is Yamagato industries from Tokyo Tower?"

"Wait, you're in Tokyo?"

"Yeah, I just used Hiro's powers to teleport here."

"What about Hanami?"

"My friends are taking good care of her. She's fine. Now, some directions please." So Ando told him how to get there. "Thank you, friend." The phone hung up.

* * *

Gabriel was feeling very confused. He didn't know where his dad was, and he wanted to find Mohinder, but he didn't know how to contact him except for hailing the cab that he drove. But there are over 1300 taxis in New York City! That would be like picking a needle out of a haystack. And he didn't know what to do with Hanami in the meanwhile. He kept thinking of solutions and then second guessing himself. He looked through Hiro's phone but couldn't find a number for Mohinder, and he didn't see any numbers on Peter's fridge that would help. He was very frightened just because he just didn't know what to do.

Finally, he grabbed Hanami's hand. "Come on, we're going to try to find Mohinder." He opened the door and immediately walked into something he couldn't see.

"And where do you think you're going?" Claude's voice said.

"Mr. Rains!" Hanami cried.

"Yes, Monsieur Rains, do you know Mohinder Suresh's number?"

"Who, Ghandi? I've only seen him a couple of times. You'd have to ask Peter; he's the one all chummy with him."

"I got to find him, ask him about something. You can help me look for Papa. He's not here, and we don't know what's happened to him. You can take Hanami with you, if you want."

"Oh yeah, that would look great, a little six-year-old girl walking by herself in a dangerous city."

Gabriel gave him an odd expression. "That doesn't sound great."

"That's what we call 'sarcasm.' Look, she's best staying with you."

"Alright, well let's go. We need to hurry."

* * *

Peter called Ando again about an hour later. "Hey, I'm here, but I can't get in. The door's got a keypad."

"Oh yes, that's right. Don't worry, I'll help you." He hung up and told his supervisor that he was going out for lunch. Then he walked down and held open the door. He looked all around. "Peter Petrelli?" he said aloud.

"Thanks man," he heard Peter's voice say, and he thought he felt a pat on his shoulder, but he didn't see him.

"Oh. You're welcome," he said to the air.

Peter went up to the top floor on the elevator. As he got off, he saw a young woman in a business suit walking alone. He followed her. At one point, she paused and looked around, as though she was looking to see if she was being watched. Peter just kept still. She came up to an office with big, wooden doors, which were closed. The woman slowly cracked one door open and came in. Peter slipped in behind her. There was an older man sitting at the big desk, talking on the phone. To Peter, he looked kinda like that guy on "Star Trek," but no, that would be too much of a coincidence.

"It's important!" the man said loudly. "I know there are regulations, but you must work your way around them." He looked up and acted like he saw the woman for the first time. "I'll call you back. Thank you." He hung up and looked at her. "Kimiko?"

"Father."

"How is business?"

"Trade is good, but that is not what I came to discuss."

"Is it Hiro? Is he any closer to a confession?"

"The guards say he is no longer crying all the time. Now he's talking to himself. I was going over the Kubler-Ross stages in my mind, and I do not recall anything about insanity!"

"We know those aren't completely accurate."

"True. They also told me that his friend Ando gave them a ridiculous story that Hanami is safe in America. I think we should question him. Ando was with Hiro last year when Hiro went to America. He could be involved."

"That may not be a bad idea, but we won't do it right away. There might be some truth to what Ando is saying."

"Father, why would Hiro send her to America?"

"He probably has good intentions, but--"

"You actually have faith in him?"

"Let me finish, Kimiko. There's an English about 'good intentions,' essential that they pave the road to ruin. I was just trying to arrange a meeting with an expert on finding missing persons. It's a little harder than I'm expecting, but I believe I'm making some headway. Now, don't worry about this. I'll let you know how things turn out."

"Yes, father." Kimiko bowed and walked out. Peter stayed in. He had a feeling he knew who this expert was that Kaito was searching for.

* * *

So Gabriel resorted to the only plan he could think of–hailing taxis, sticking his head in the door, looking at the driver, and then politely telling them he was sorry but he was looking for a particular taxi driver, at which most drivers look at him like he was insane or would act very rudely indeed. Gabriel hated turning them all down. One cab had flashing lights on the ceiling, which looked rather interesting, but since Mohinder wasn't driving it Gabriel couldn't come aboard.

"I knew this was going to be frustrating," he muttered to Hanami.

"What are you doing?" he heard a voice say beside him.

"I'm trying find a friend–" He turned toward the speaker and saw, to his utter disbelief, "Mohinder! What are you doing here? How come you're not driving?"

"I was just wanting to check in on you. My shift ended about half an hour ago. So what are you up to?"

"We were looking for you."

"And who's this?"

"This is Hanami Nakamura. Remember I told you about her?"

"Oh! She's cute. And how are things going with your father?"

"They're going alright, although he's wandered off and we can't really find him right now."

"Well, you can get in my car, and we'll look for him."

"Alright, we can try that. I'm sure that will be easier than finding him on foot."

What they didn't know was that Michael had transformed back to his old person disguise and was walking around the streets of New York trying to find the Haitian. He wasn't having much luck.

* * *

Peter was just standing very still in Kaito's office, not willing to reveal himself yet. After Kimiko left, it was very quiet. Kaito made some entries into his computer and wrote some things down. Late in the afternoon, the phone rang, and Kaito answered it immediately. His eyes grew big. "Excellent! So where is it? . . . I see . . . Yes." He was writing as he spoke, and the talk seemed to be very small. Finally he said, "Domo arrigato. I can't say it enough. I'll get on the plane immediately. Goodbye." He started to get up from the desk, but then he stopped.

Peter was starting to wonder if this was a strange Japanese custom, to linger hunched over a desk such as this. Then he started to realize how still the air was and how quiet it was. The second hand on the clock above the desk wasn't moving. Time had stopped! But how? He didn't do it.

Then he saw movement behind the desk. There was somebody hunched over next to Kaito, somebody looking at whatever Kaito just wrote down and copying it down, somebody carrying a sword.

Peter, not exactly thinking, made himself visible and addressed him, "Hiro?"

Hiro looked up at him and did not show the smallest glimmer of surprise but said in an indignant tone, "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to get your carcass out of jail, and I'd appreciate a little more gratitude. And what are you doing, spying on your old man?"

Hiro looked down. "I'm sorry if I offended you. It's just that, lately you and I haven't been on the same page."

"You mean, my future self?"

Hiro nodded once.

"Well, I apologize in advance."

"I appreciate that, though it's a little too late for me."

"But what's going on?"

"Isn't it obvious? Father's going to see Molly Walker to find Hanami. I need to see Molly Walker, too. They've kept her well-hidden after what happened in the company. She's almost unreachable."

"Well, can't you just find her in your time?"

"She can only find people in the present, my past."

"I don't know if I get it."

"There's no time to explain."

"Wait a minute. Hanami couldn't have gotten to America by herself." He pointed at Hiro. "You teleported her there, didn't you? You put yourself in danger for her?"

Hiro looked up at him with a small gleam of his innocense in his eye. "Please do not mistake me, Peter Petrelli. All that I've done, I've done with the best of intentions."

Peter chuckled. "Funny thing. You're dad just said something interesting about good intentions."

The innocense disappeared in a flash and was replaced with hot anger. "I know what you have come to do, and you must do it quickly. You're wasting time."

"What? What do you–"

But then Hiro shut his eyes and disappeared. Peter made himself invisible just in the nick of time.

* * *

The search for Michael still wasn't going well. So many people were everywhere, and none of them looked anything like him. Even though Mohinder clearly had an "Off Duty" sign on his car, people were still trying to flag them down.

"I'm starting to feel a little carsick," Gabriel said.

"Are you going to be ok?" Mohinder said.

"Yeah, I think so. I don't get very carsick. Um, Mohinder, there's something I would like to ask you."

"What is it?"

"I was in Odessa a little while ago, and I heard about you hosting a symposium there. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind if I went with you."

"Why no, not at all. I actually wanted to invite you. I've been working for days on the material and my speech. You know, I might use some of that speech if I go to Stockholm."

"You mean 'when' you go to Stockholm."

"No, I mean 'if.'"

"You're going to win, Mohinder, if not this year than another. This is just too innovative, what you've come up with."

"But I didn't. It was Father's theory. I'm merely the messenger."

"So how are we going to get there?"

"I was thinking about walking."

"Walking? All the way?"

"Hey, I swam here from India. Why not?"

"You swam the whole way? Are you in the record books?"

"No. I guess as a serious scientist, my sense of humor is bad. I'm going to be driving us. They payed for the gas money."

"Oh, well that's better than walking."

"Yeah. Now, it's a very long drive from here to Texas. I'm planning on leaving tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? What do I do about Dad?"

"Take him with us! I'm sure he'll like it to."

"What about Hanami?"

"That's . . . a good question."

"Can I take her too? I'm supposed to be looking after her."

"Alright, the more the merrier," Mohinder nodded, even though his tone wasn't encouraging. "Um, Gabriel?"

"Whoa! Stop the car!"

Mohinder pulled the car to a screeching halt. "Did you see him?"

"No, but I see something good!" He bounded out of the car.

There was a used bookstore just off the sidewalk. It had a huge cart of paperbacks, and above it was a sign which read "Free Books!" Gabriel looked at them closer, making sure that they weren't Harlequin romances, but to his delight they were mostly classics. "Good reading material for the trip." He started picking some books, but then he thought, "But with my reading ability, it probably won't be a couple of minutes before I finish the first novel. I'm probably better taking the whole cart." So he started pulling the whole top shelf off and making a pile.

"Little mouse likes his cheese, huh?" Gabriel turned in shock toward the voice. Sylar was standing in the door of the store, which for the first time Gabriel noticed had an "Out of Business" sign. "Oh wait, the correct word is 'fromage,' right?"

Gabriel looked at him, not sure what to say.

"I learned some things about you, namesake, after our last encounter. I know you're from France, and that you love to read."

"How?"

"Never mind. But there's something about I don't know. You have a way of resisting me."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"When you were a mouse, yes I know that was you, I tried to summon you into my hand with my powers, but you didn't come. Why do you think that is?"

"I have no idea."

"Well, there's only one way to find out." He started to point at Gabriel's head. "Wait. Why don't you read for a little while? I want to see how swollen your cerebral cortex can get."

That was his mistake. Gabriel jumped on the cart and drove it toward the cab, screaming "Mohinder! Mohinder!" Sylar started chasing after him, but he stopped and just watched him.

"Son! Are you in trouble?" he heard somebody call. Gabriel looked up and saw–

"PAPA! Quick, get in that cab! And help me with these books."

Gabriel felt a little strange that he was caring about how many books he got over his life, but he still had to get as many as he could.

"What's going on?" Mohinder asked as they slid in.

"It's him!" Gabriel answered in between breaths.

"Sylar?"

Gabriel nodded.

"Let's get out of here." Mohinder floored it.

* * *

It was late night in Tokyo. Peter walked through the halls of the jail while invisible. If he ever saw a camera, he created some interference, and he disabled every alarm or laser that he found. He looked into each cell. It wasn't easy since they all looked so similar, but he finally saw Hiro's messy hair. The young man was sitting in a corner, asleep. Peter used Michael's powers to turn into a cockroach and crawl through the bars. Then he changed back and became visible again. He crouched over to Hiro. "Hiro?" he whispered. "Hiro, wake up!" He hit Hiro's side.

Hiro's eyes jerked open. He looked over. "Peter!"

"Shh!" he hissed. "I'm getting you out of here."

"Oh, you found Gabriel," Hiro whispered. "Did you help him find the Piano Man?"

"Yeah. Get this, the Piano Man was his dad."

"He is? I thought he was dead."

"Yeah, that's what Gabriel thought, but--look, we don't have time to talk about that now." Peter pointed at the chains around Hiro's ankles, and they opened. He pointed to the gate, and it opened by itself. "Now, you need to hold on to my arm. Don't let go. Then no one will see you."

"OK." Hiro grabbed his elbow, and immediately, they both disappeared. Peter ran through the gate and the corridor. They kept running past all the guards, and Peter made sure no alarms went off.

Finally, they got outside. Peter made the main gate open. "Now, you go on. Teleport back to America. Your niece is at my apartment. Go help with whatever she needs to do. I'll take your place."

"You'll do that?"

"It's the only option I can think of. When you bring back Hanami safe, they'll let me go, and everything will get back to normal."

"But how can you--?"

Even as Hiro was speaking, Peter closed his eyes, concentrated on Michael, and transformed into an exact duplicate of Hiro.

"Wow!" Hiro marveled. "Thank you, Peter!" He started running.

"Wait! What are you doing?" Peter called.

Hiro turned around. "I gotta get my sword!"

"You don't need the sword!"

"I made a vow! I have to get it!" He kept running. Peter sighed and shook his head, hoping Hiro wouldn't get caught. Somehow, what Future Hiro said about not being on the same page didn't seem so farfetched. He concentrated on Claude and vanished.

To Be Continued . . .


	11. Lost and Found

Chapter 11: Lost and Found

Mohinder Suresh: New York

A cab sped against the flow of traffic. Mohinder knew he was going to pay for this later, out of his own pocket, and he prayed that he wasn't going to get fired. But there's a killer out there. Now he has more than second-hand accounts or photographs. He saw Sylar himself in his rear-view mirror, grinning with a devilish glee, and now he had to get away as soon as he could.

"Papa, ou etaient vous?" (Where were you?) Gabriel asked.

"Je faisais un tour," (I was taking a walk) Michael answered.

"Pourquois avez-vous laisse Hanami seul?" (Why did you leave Hanami alone?)

"Ah, la petite fille!" (The little girl) "J'ai ouble! Je suis desole!"

"He says he's sorry," Gabriel told Hanami.

"OK," she replied.

Mohinder shook his head, wondering what they were talking about.

"I remember you!" the old man said. "You were there when my son came back to me."

Mohinder smiled, glad to hear that he spoke English. "I am. It's an honor, Mr. Goodman."

"Bonhomme!"

"How come your son's name is Goodman if your name is Bonhomme?"

"Because 'Bonhomme' literally means 'good man.' He must have translated it inadvertently."

"Oh, Papa," Gabriel said excitedly. "This is Mohinder Suresh! He's nominated for two Nobel Prizes this year."

"In what, taxi driving?"

"Non, Papa. He–well, when you transformed into a bird, did you ever wonder how?"

"Not really. I was so glad I could that I didn't think of it."

"He's been doing research about how and why things like that are happening everywhere in the world. He thinks it's evolution." He whispered lower, "He think autism is a form of evolution, too. At least, I think he does. He's going to speak about it at a Church in a few days, and he's invited us to come."

"So he can explain people like Peter and that invisible guy?"

"Oh!" Gabriel looked up at Mohinder. "Monsieur Rains! I sent him out to find Papa! We have to tell him–"

"Maybe when we're not on the run from a murderer," he replied. "You guys can stay with me tonight. The sooner we get out of New York, the better."

There was quite a long pause after that. Finally, Mohinder started to slow down. "I think we lost him."

"Uh, Papa?" Gabriel spoke up.

"Oui, mon fils?"

Gabriel opened his mouth, but he closed it again. "J'ai oublie. N'importe." (Never mind.)

* * *

Peter Petrelli–Tokyo, Japan 

He spent a long night on the rock-hard mattress of the bunk in Hiro's cell, and he kinda understood why Hiro was sitting on the ground, sleeping in a corner. His back hurt. He sighed. "It won't be for long," he told himself.

Inside him was an itch, jittering inside him, tugging at his heart. He never felt it this bad. Was this what Isaac felt on a regular basis? He ran up to the bars of his cell. "Guard! Guard! Do you have a sketchbook?" The guard just gave him an odd look and walked away.

"What's the matter, crybaby," another inmate yelled, "run out of hankies?" Other inmates laughed or made mock crying noises.

So, Hiro's already gotten a reputation for being a wimp? That's not a big surprise, but it's not something Peter can endure. He looked over from the cell that it came from. "Hey, will you just shut up?"

For a moment, everything fell silent. Then Peter heard some of the inmates go "oooh," and others whisper excitedly in Japanese. As they were doing this, another inmate that looked bigger and stronger than Hiro walked slowly forward. He reached through the bars and grabbed Hiro's shirt. "You got a problem, crybaby? What, you want to go?"

"Yeah, I can take you on."

Everybody laughed again, except for the man grabbing him. "Nice to see you finally got some guts. Meet me in the recreation yard at 2:00, and I'm going to snap those stupid glasses on your face, and then I'm going to splatter those new guts of yours everywhere." He let Peter go slowly and walked away.

"You don't scare me!" Peter yelled back at him and only got more laughter. He took a better look at himself. It's true, Hiro doesn't really have a fighter's physique, but Peter had a plan.

* * *

It took a long time for Gabriel to go to sleep as he reclined on the couch. He always had trouble sleeping in unfamiliar places, but it was much worse that night. He kept thinking that the invisible man was still out there, looking for his father. And what if Peter returned while they were gone? What will Mr. Rains tell him? And Gabriel did remember what he wanted to ask his dad. It was about that lady in the picture, but he had to show him who it was. He was also trouble about seeing Sylar again, especially what he said. How did he resist him? Was he just lucky? And how did he know so much about him? With all these worries and concerns in his mind, he thought he'd never go to sleep, but somehow he did. But those problems didn't go away, even in his dream. 

"Monsieur . . . Monsieur le Peu . . . Monsieur . . ." He kept muttering in French. Then he opened his eyes, but he couldn't see. He groggily stumbled up and put his hand on the door.

About ten minutes later, Michael got up to go to the restroom. He passed the couch and saw that his son wasn't there. "Gabriel? Gabriel?!"

Mohinder woke up minutes before when he heard a strange moaning sound. He went into the living room and found Michael sitting on floor rocking and crying. "What's the matter?"

"Gabriel gone!"

"Gabriel?" He looked at the couch and saw it empty.

"Gabriel gone! Gabriel gone! Ruth gone!"

"Ruth? Her name is Hanami, and she'll still asleep in my room."

"Ruth gone! Angela right!"

Clearly he didn't know what he was talking about. "Listen, Mr. Bonhomme, Gabriel is probably sleepwalking. He told me he had that problem. Don't worry, I'll find him. You stay here and look after Han–Ruth."

"OK," Michael nodded.

"He'll be fine, I'll see to it." He started walking out and dialing a number on his cell phone. "I know, I'm sorry, but I need you to track Gabriel Bonhomme."

* * *

Hiro Nakamura–Tokyo, Japan 

The real Hiro made it to his home safe and sound. "Yatta," he whispered as he tried to catch his breath. He went to a safe, dialed in the combination, and pulled out the sacred sword of Kensei. "Now to find Hanami," he thought as he strapped the sword on his back. He closed his eyes, concentrated very hard . . . and nothing happened. "Oh, it's because I'm still too sad. I have to cut out my heart. Kensei did exercises to center his emotions." Hiro began to breathe slowly and go through the motions Kensei taught him.

* * *

The fake Hiro was just starting recreation time. Peter flexed his fingers, ready to give his buddy a better reputation, maybe a little street cred. He made his way to the basketball yard. 

"Hey crybaby!" he heard a yell. The cellmate who threatened was heading his direction. "It's go time."

"You gonna stop calling me that?"

"Come on, you've been crying every since you got locked up, all because of that stupid girl you got lost."

"I'm not crying now, am I?"

"Yeah, well, you're going to be!"

The guy started making fists, and that's when Peter put his plan into effect. He remembered that woman, that very pretty woman, who grabbed that parking meter out of Sylar's hands and knocked him over the head with it. He remember telling her, "Go back to your family. I got this." Right after that, his hands started glowing, but he had a good feeling that he absorbed her power just before then. He put his hands in front of him and pushed. The guy hit the wall pretty hard. Peter then started punching him and kicking him.

"Alright, alright, I won't call you crybaby anymore!" the guy moaned. "Would you cut it out?"

"Not until I rip you apart!" Peter answered in a strange, deep voice.

"Wait, what am I doing?" Peter thought. "If I go too far, I might . . ." He looked down at his hands, and he thought he sound them glow. He shrieked and let the guy go. He took a few deep breaths. "No. No! Cool down. Think about something else . . ."

Something hit him on the back of his head. The other guy chose that moment of diverted attention to strike. Peter made a chopping motion and this time used his telekinesis to make the guy hit the wall again. He looked down at his hands and saw that they were fine. He wondered for a moment if it was just a trick of the light.

* * *

Gabriel kept walking in the dark streets of New York, pushing through the crowds. Luckily, he was staying on the sidewalks. Still, he did manage to find himself at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

"What are you doing out here this late, namesake?" Sylar cornered him as he walked outside Isaac Mendez's loft.

"Monsieur le Peu, je suis desole," Gabriel muttered. He started holding his hand out as though he was trying to feel a face.

"So the angel speaks in tongues. That can be useful. Doesn't look like you're going to resist me this time."

WHAM! Someone hit him from behind. Sylar turned around, but he saw no one. He was hit again, completely blind sighted. As he hit the ground, he saw the kid run off.

Claude took Gabriel up to the Deveux roof. "How many times have I got to save you–" He looked in Gabriel's face and noticed that something wasn't quite right. "Kid? Alright there, kid?" Gabriel kept muttering. "Snap out of it!" Claude said as he slapped Gabriel's face.

"Monsieur . . . Monsieur . . . Monsieur Rains! Is that you?" Gabriel yelled as he looked up.

"I knew that 'dangerous to wake a sleepwalker' was a myth."

"Is that how I got up here? Listen, you don't have to look for Papa. As it turned out, he found me."

"Oh, I gave up on that ages ago. Where've you lot been?"

"With Mohinder. Oh, and we're going to Texas for a few days to hear him speak at a symposium."

"Oh no you don't! You heard Peter. You're not supposed to leave until he comes back."

"He said not to go looking for the Circle. He didn't say not to leave. You told me that logic."

"Me?"

"Well, it was your future self. It's a long story."

"I guess if I said it, I better not argue. Just make sure you look after yourselves."

"Hang on, there's something I need from Peter's apartment."

So they went back down to Peter's apartment. Gabriel picked up the same photo. "Just who is she, and why did she–?" Suddenly, he felt something grab the picture. "Oh, you want to look at it?" He let go, and the picture floated in the air. It looked kinda freaky. "I'm looking at that woman in the background with the dark hair."

"I remember her," Claude said. "It's been years since I've seen her. She helped get me to America. Told me she could get me in a program that could help, place I could make a difference." He scoffed. "Load of malarkey, that."

"What was it?"

"Let's just say that my definition and their definition of 'making a difference' didn't quite mesh, and they nearly killed me over it."

"Well, who is she? What's her name?"

"Can't remember. Like I said, it was years ago, before you were born even. And Peter's involved with her? Well, I can't say I'm surprised."

Gabriel took the picture back and looked at it closer. "How do you know she has anything to do with Peter? She just happens to be in the picture."

Gabriel could see a fingerprint appear as Claude touched the class. "This other man here is his brother, Nathan. This probably is from his wedding. If I had to wager, I'd say this woman is–"

"Gabriel!" Gabriel turned around and saw a relieved Mohinder standing in the doorway. "You're ok? What are you doing here? We need to get you back, you're father's worried sick."

"OK. Hey Mohinder, do you by chance know who this woman is?"

"Well, I don't know who she is exactly, but I've seen her before. I once went to the house listed on Peter's identification to deliver . . . a message. She answered the door. I gave her . . . my message, and she just told me to leave."

"That wasn't very polite."

"Why do you want to know?"

"I remember her, too. She was at Papa's funeral. She told me we were related, and I just didn't know it yet. And she was at the reading of the will, even though she wasn't invited and she was never mentioned. I seriously doubted that we were really related, but she seemed pretty insistent. I never caught her name, and that was the only time I saw her. Well, Papa will know for sure."

"I don't think we should take one of Peter's things without asking."

"Oh . . . right."

"Don't worry. We'll be back in a few days. We can ask Peter who she is. Now, we need to get you back. We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow on our way to Odessa, and you really need to get some rest. You could sleep in the car with the doors locked and the seatbelt on if you're worried about sleepwalking again."

"They're not going to hold me. They haven't in the past. But I don't think we have to worry about me sleepwalking anymore tonight."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because usually after I sleepwalk, I have difficulty getting back to sleep."

Gabriel started walking out, but Mohinder lagged behind. He pushed redial on his phone. "I found him. He's fine. Thanks for your help . . . Yeah, we'll be on our way tomorrow."

* * *

Kaito Nakamura–A Hospital Somewhere in the United States, the Next Morning 

He approached a door that he was directed to on the phone. There was a man standing outside. He bowed to him. "Once again, I cannot thank you enough. Truly, from the bottom of my heart . . ."

"You have ten minutes," the man coldly replied as he opened the door.

Kaito went in a looked the little girl lying on the bed. "Hello, Molly?"

"Hi," she said sleepily. "Who are you?"

"I am Kaito Nakamura."

"Kai . . . Kai . . . can I call you Kite?"

Mr. Nakamura wasn't very thrilled about that, but he nodded. "I suppose so." He held out to her a small box. "I bring gift to you. Sweets all the way from Japan."

Molly took the box. "The nurses probably won't like it."

He smiled. "Well, I won't tell if you don't tell."

Molly giggled and put the gift to the side. "Listen, I don't ever get visitors, so you're here for a reason, aren't you?"

He nodded. "Yes, I am. I hear you can find people, anyone, anywhere in the world, even if you don't know who they are."

"I can. I just have to think about them."

"My granddaughter. She's very sweet, about your age. On her birthday, just a few days ago, she disappeared. Her Mom and Dad are very sad and scared, and so am I. Please, can you help us find her? Her name is Hanami Nakamura."

Molly closed her eyes for a moment then opened them. "OK."

"I hear you need a map and a pin. I brought one for you." He laid out in front of her a map of Japan.

Molly took a pin in her hand and held it above the map, but then she shook her head. "She's not here."

"How could she be anywhere else?"

"I don't know, but she's not here. Hand me that atlas on the counter there." He did, and she flipped over to a map of America. Again she held a pin over the map and with a slow, shaky hand pushed into Virginia.

"She's in America? Are you sure?"

"I've never been wrong before."

"Is she alright? Is she alive?"

"Well, I wouldn't be able to find her if she were dead."

"Is she hurt?"

"I don't know. All I know is she's here. No wait, now she's here." She poked the pin in another spot a few centimeters down.

"So she is moving?"

"Yes. She's traveling very fast."

"You think she's in a car?"

"Maybe."

"Where is she going?"

"I don't know."

"Is . . . Peter Petrelli with her."

"Peter Petrelli?" She closed her eyes. "Let me see." She got another pin and held it above the map. Then, to Mr. Nakamura's surprise, she reached for the map that he brought and gently pushed the pin into it. He looked at the spot.

"Tokyo Prison? But that is where my son is, Hiro Nakamura. Why would he be there?"

"Hiro . . ." Molly closed her eyes and held another pin, but then she shook her head again. She started flipping through her atlas. "He's not anywhere!"

"Well, he must be somewhere! He's my son!"

"I don't see him. It's almost like he doesn't exist, but I know he does. I remember him. He hurt the boogieman."

"Could he be dead?"

"Maybe. Somehow, though, I don't think he is."

"Your ten minutes are up," the guard said at the door.

"I need to go. Thank you very much Molly," Mr. Nakamura said, bowing to her.

"Thank you for the–" (she whispered), "the you-know-what."

Mr. Nakamura smiled. Molly was still rather troubled about this mystery with Hiro. She kept staring at the map, wondering if she overlooked something. Suddenly she looked up. "Oh, there he is!"

* * *

They were on their way in a nice rental car with GPS. Every hour, the passengers changed seats. Hanami and Michael slept most of the way. Gabriel try to sleep, but his mind was too active. He flipped through three of his novels on the first hour of the journey. He would have read more, but he was still bothered about the unresolved questions. At one point, he looked over at Michael. "Papa?" 

"Oui, mon fils?"

"Are we . . . related to Peter?"

"I don't think we are. Why?"

"I saw a picture yesterday in Peter's apartment of someone who looked familiar. It was a woman who was at your funeral who claimed that we were related, but I'd never seen her before. I wish I could show you."

"Well, there is a possibility. I never told you this, but some of your family on your mother's side live in New York City."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because they aren't good people. They didn't approve of your mama and me marrying. I haven't seen them since the wedding, and I haven't heard much from them. Personally, I'm rather glad they're out of our lives."

"How can you say that? Peter's nice."

"It might not be Peter, though. Like I said, it's only a possibility. New York is one of the biggest cities in the world. Your relatives could be anybody."

"But if he's not related, what about the woman in the picture?"

"It could be a coincidence, and there's no guarantee that the woman is related to him just because she's in that picture."

Gabriel shook his head. He didn't want to contradict his father, but he doubted it was coincidence, and if she wasn't related to Peter, why would he put that picture in a prominent place? "Wait a minute. You were quite in a hurry to get out when Peter mentioned his mother. Why?"

Michael looked away. "Because if Peter is our relative, it's his mother we most need to fear."

Gabriel could tell that this wasn't going to be resolved easily. So when he was up in the front passenger seat, he decided to talk a little to Mohinder. "Mohinder, did you or your father postulate omniscience as an evolved ability?"

"Omniscience? You mean like a God-like knowledge?"

"OK, maybe not omniscience, but maybe a wisdom beyond one's years. The kind of thing like if you ask them questions, they know the answer, no matter what it is."

"You really want to know who that woman is in the picture, don't you?"

"Well, there's that, and there are some other things."

"Like what?"

"I had another run-in with Sylar before yesterday. He told me he was trying to use his powers to get me, but I resisted him, and I don't know how."

"Perhaps you have some kind of defense mechanism to escape the predator. Sometimes, you know, when confronted with a fight or flight situation, flight is the wisest course of action. That's very interesting."

"Do you think I could do it again?"

"Well, you must be able to. You managed it yesterday, after all."

"True. Also, if I had some clue where the Circle is . . ."

"Circle? What is this about a Circle?"

"We don't know exactly what it is, but Hanami just says we have to find it. I get this feeling like this is what everything is about, why I'm here, what I'm supposed to do."

"Hmmm. That sounds intriguing. Well, to answer your first question, I have met someone who may have that kind of intelligence. It's a boy, probably about 12 years old. He's like a spirit guide. He has the ability to go into dreams and manipulate them. He showed me memories and events of the past I didn't even know happened. You remember when I told you I also had dreams of how my father died? That boy was the one who showed me."

"Who is he? Where can I find him?"

"His name is Sanjong Iyer, and he lives in India."

"Oh." Gabriel bowed his head in disappointment.

"But that doesn't mean he's unreachable. When I first saw him in the flesh, playing soccer with his friends, and I told him that he came to me in a dream, Sanjong smiled and said, 'I do not come to people; they come to me.'"

"That may not be the greatest idea to give me. I might start sleepwalking to India."

"Well, if you sleepwalked to America, I'm sure you'd be able to manage."

Gabriel smiled a little.

Mohinder sighed. "Gabriel, there's something I've been meaning to tell you. It may be unwise of me to spring it on you now, but it's better than later."

"What is it?"

"The preacher who asked me to speak at his church congregation offered for me to stay at house for a few nights. I sure you'd understand that it would be rude to tell him at the last minute that I brought three extra guests unannounced."

"It would?"

"Well, of course! He may not have enough food or beds."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, social rules aren't always apparent to me."

"Oh yes, that's right."

"So, you're saying Papa, Hanami, and I should get a room in a hotel?"

"No. See, I have another friend in Odessa who will let you stay at his house. If you don't mind, I told him about you, and he wants to meet you and your father. He's a good man, perhaps a little bit of a loose cannon, very dedicated to certain causes, but I don't think you have to worry about that. He has a very nice family, and I'm sure they'll open their house up to you. He may even help you answer the questions that are heavy on your mind."

This must be what future Hiro was talking about. Gabriel couldn't see how this would test him though. "Alright, Mohinder, I trust you."

* * *

A little later in the day, a nurse left after giving Molly a tray with her dinner. As soon as she left, Molly put the tray to the side then reached down to the hiding place where she put that nice Japanese man's gift. She opened the box and pulled out a long stick that looked like chocolate. She opened her mouth to take a bite, when something didn't feel right. She couldn't put her finger on it. Then she felt a hand on her head. She looked up and saw another Japanese man, a much younger one, but he looked kinda scary. 

"Molly Walker," he said. "I've never seen you this young. You look a lot like my niece."

"Oh, you're Hiro Nakamura!"

"That's right," he said with a solemn nod.

"Why couldn't I find you a while ago?"

"Because I was traveling."

"Traveling?"

"Through time and space. I remember, I tried to keep myself in the present, but when I arrived I was a few days in the future. Therefore, for a few days, I didn't exist."

Molly gave him an odd look, and Hiro broke out in a smile.

"Don't try to figure it out. It will just give you a headache."

"Why are you here?"

"I need you to find somebody for me." Hiro handed her the atlas. "His name's Sanjong Iyer."

"OK." She picked up a pin, and her shaky hand positioned itself just above the Pacific Ocean. She didn't move.

"He's in the ocean?"

"No. He's above it."

"So, he's in an airplane?"

"Probably."

"Excellent. I guess you don't know where he's going."

"No idea."

"That's alright. I'll be back in a couple of days. Don't tell anyone you saw me, please."

"OK."

"Uh, can I have one of those pockies?"

"Sure." She handed him the box, and he pulled one out.

"Thanks." He took a bite. "Enjoy them while you can. They don't make them like this anymore. I better go." He shut his eyes and disappeared. It was only then that the strange feeling was gone.

* * *

Peter was put in solitary after the fight. It gave him some good time to quiet down and think. After his time out there was up and he was sent back to his cell, he asked again for a notebook, and he got one. He finally was able to act on that itch he'd been feeling since the morning. It seemed as soon as he put the pen to the paper, he went into a trance. He couldn't see what he was drawing. When he came out of it, he saw six stick figures holding hands in a circle around what looked like a badly-drawn replica of Texas, and each figure was surrounded by what looked fire, and there were two figures standing inside the circle, and it looked like they were holding something. 

"That's the Circle?" Peter said softly. He had a feeling that it would look a lot better if he had some more colors.

Someone hit the bars of his cell again. "Nakamura!" a guard said. "Your father is here. Are you ready to confess?"

Peter stood and almost said, "I'm not Catholic," but then he thought this through. It must be Kaito, and this will be the chance to tell him the truth. "Yes. I will talk to him, but I don't want any recording devices and no one watching us through one-glass, just me and him. I won't speak to him otherwise."

The jail door opened, and the guard grabbed Peter's arm. "This way, Nakamura."

* * *

Meanwhile in Isaac's loft, Sylar, who had more access to colors was getting together a much more spectacular picture. When he was done, he marveled at it. "I don't know what that is," he said softly, "but I want it."

* * *

Gabriel did eventually fall asleep and didn't have any trouble with sleepwalking. He must have slept for most of the trip, because the next thing he knew Mohinder was shaking his shoulder. "Gabriel, we're here." 

Gabriel got up, blinking to the dome light. It was dark out. "So, this is where we're staying?"

"Yes. Come on out, I'll introduce you."

Gabriel stumbled out along with the others. Mohinder approached a figure up at the porch. "I brought them."

The person standing there was still blurry in Gabriel's sleepy eyes, but Gabriel still recognized him. "The spy!"

To Be Continued . . .


	12. Symposium

Chapter 12: Symposium

Tokyo Prison

A guard pushed Peter into the small interrogation room. A very grumpy Japanese man stared him down. He looked more and more like that guy from "Star Trek."

"Hiro," Kaito acknowledged.

Peter didn't know how to reply, so he just nodded.

"I hear you imposed very specific conditions upon our meeting. Why?"

"Because I do have something to confess, but not what you think. I don't think you or anyone else will believe me, but I would rather it not be on the record."

"What is it?"

Peter leaned over and said very softly, "I am not your son."

To his surprise, the only reaction he got was a raised eyebrow. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and then returned to his true form. "My name is Pete–"

But Kaito stopped him by raising his hand. "I know who you are. My son was supposed to kill you last year."

Peter stared at him, open-mouthed. This was not going to go well.

* * *

Odessa, Texas

"I brought them," Mohinder said.

It was dark, and Gabriel was sleepy, but he still recognized the man Mohinder was talking to. He could see the moon reflected on his horned-rimmed glasses. "The spy!" He started to run away.

"Gabriel!" Mohinder yelled as he chased after him.

"Son? Where are you going?" Michael called.

"Come on, Papa, we got to get out of here!" Gabriel called.

Yet Mohinder caught him. "Gabriel, what are you doing?"

"Mohinder, that man thinks I'm a terrorist! He thinks I'm in league with Sylar! Did you know that?"

"Alright, I told him about you, and he did make some assumptions. I know him a little bit more about you, and I'm going to talk to him, tell him that his assumptions aren't correct. I told you, he's a good man. He just wants to find out more about you."

"He wants to send me to Guantanamo Bay!"

"No, I don't," a voice chimed in. Gabriel looked up and saw Mr. Bennet standing beside Mohinder. He smiled and extended his hand to the boy. "Good to see you again, Gabriel."

Gabriel stared at him, not sure if he should take his hand.

"You said you trusted me," Mohinder whispered. "I wouldn't put you in the hands of someone I feared would harm you."

Gabriel looked at him. Finally, he slowly nodded at both of them. He still didn't take Bennet's hand, but he followed him back to the house.

"See you tomorrow night!" Mohinder called waving.

"You look tired," Bennet said. "My wife's got a place fixed up for you to sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

"Merci," Gabriel muttered as he walked ahead of him.

* * *

"So where is he?" Kaito asked after what seemed like an eternity of silence.

"Sir?" Peter asked. He was still processing what Kaito just said.

Kaito leaned over the table. "Where is my son?"

"I sent him out to look for your granddaughter."

"Don't lie to me!" Kaito stood. "You're in a conspiracy together! You're in a plot to harm her!"

"Not true!" Peter said standing. "No one wants her to come home safe more than I do, except for probably Hiro. She ran away. We don't know how or why, but she's at my apartment right now and–"

"LIES! There's evidence all over the scene that my son abducted her."

"Well that . . . uh . . . OK, I don't know if you know this about your son, but he can travel through time. It could be that a version of Hiro from the future took her and brought her to America. None of us really know why. So the Hiro you know isn't behind this at all."

"What about you?"

"I'm not either! She was brought to my apartment. I told you, I wanted to bring her back, but she threw a fit. She said something about a circle, saying that it's why she had to stay. I really don't understand it, but I helped Hiro get out of jail, and he's going to find her and help her and bring her back. Then when you see that she's fine, you can drop the charges against him."

"Where is she going?"

"She's not going anywhere until Hiro gets to her!"

"Another lie! I have from a reliable source that she's traveling across the country, and Hiro is not with her!"

"What?!" He slammed both of his fists on the table. "I TOLD THEM TO STAY PUT!" Anger burned inside of him like never before. His hands had left huge dents in the counter.

* * *

Gavin Wright–Odessa, Texas, the next morning

"Gavin, Honey, it's time to wake up." He was already half awake, but he never got up until his mother came in and gave him a gentle budge on the shoulder. It was just one of the routines he had since he was a kid that he refused to deviate from. "Oh, Honey, you have a call."

"Who'd call me . . . this early?"

"I don't know, Dear. He sounded like it was very important." She handed him the phone.

"Hello?" Gavin said sleepily.

"Oi, Gavin. Do you know who this is, lad?"

"Boss?"

"Please, call me Franklin. Everyone does."

"Alright, Mr. Franklin."

"Not 'mister.' There's no reason to get that formal."

"If you say so."

"Now, Gavin, I have a little job for you, and I want you to think about it through the day. Perhaps it will help you focus. You've no doubt heard about the evolution symposium that is to be held at a local church tonight, have you?"

"Yeah. Mom doesn't want me to go. She doesn't believe in evolution."

"You don't have to tell her. And if you do, I'm sure she'll understand that it's for business. I want you to be there and see if you can pry out some information from the speaker."

"That Indian guy?"

"We were working with him for a while, but he severed ties with us for unspecified reasons. We want to know what progress he's making. Now, there's a young lady who worked with us who knew him quite well. She went by the name Eden McCain. Are you familiar with her?"

"I have her obit. She was killed by Sylar, wasn't she?"

"Well, technically, no. We found her dead in Sylar's cell, but he did not kill her. There was a gun in her hand. We think he tried to kill her, and she killed herself to keep him from doing it. We're not even sure if Mohinder even knows she's deceased. She can be very convincing. Do you think you can get her to talk to Mohinder for a little bit after the discussion?"

"I can try."

"Excellent. Candace and I will be there to pick you up at 6:30. Now, I want you to think about the task I'm setting before you today. If you can, conjure Eden herself and ask her what I'm asking you."

"I don't think it–"

"Wonderful, son. See you tonight." There was a click and a dial tone. Gavin turned off the phone. How was he going to do this?

* * *

As tired as he was, Gabriel woke with the dawn. Mrs. Bennet had him on the sofa in the living room. He didn't want to get up because he knew getting up would mean having to talk to the spy.

Then he heard sounds of someone walking. He opened his eyes slightly and could see a girl coming down the stairs. It was the same girl he saw last time. She went into the kitchen and started brewing coffee. He went in after her. "Bonjour."

She glanced over at him and gave him a small smile. "Hi. You must be one of the guests Dad said was coming over."

"Well, yeah, I am. Don't you remember me?"

She gave him another uncomfortable glance and shook her head.

"How did you do on your French test?"

"I made a hundred. How do you know about that?"

"I helped you study for it! Hang on, that man you introduced me to, could it be he took your memories of me?"

"I guess it's possible. If he did, Dad probably saw good reason to have him do it."

Well, that didn't sound very trustworthy. He was hoping that if this spy wasn't the good guy Mohinder made him out to be that Gabriel would have at least one ally, someone to help him get out.

"So who all came with you?" Claire asked as she poured coffee.

"Our friend Hanami, and my papa."

Claire looked at him confused. "I thought you said he was dead." Immediately, an "I-blew-it" expression crossed her face.

What? He did tell her that. "You do remember me!"

"Shh!" Claire hissed. She handed him the mug she just poured and whispered, "The Haitian didn't take my memories. I just told him what happened. He said he may take them eventually, but for now he thinks I need them. But I still have to pretend like he did take them."

"Why?"

"Because of D-A-D. If he finds out I still know about you . . . well, it was bad enough last time."

"But I need an ally, someone who will help me escape if it gets too bad."

"If it's any consolation, the Haitian doesn't believe you're dangerous. Actually, he believes your in danger."

Gabriel scoffed. "That's no big secret. I got a murderer after me."

Claire choke on her cup of coffee. "A murderer? You don't mean Sylar, do you?"

"That's who I mean. I ran into him three times already."

"So he is alive, but how could that be? You really need to tell Dad."

"Well, it would just confirm what he's been saying, wouldn't it? If he's following me, it would look like we're in cahoots, wouldn't it?"

"I think it would be quite the opposite. Would he kill someone who's helping him?"

"He might, if he's as bad as people have been saying he is."

"Oh he is, and worse."

"You're up early," a new voice said. The spy was standing at the opening of the kitchen. "Claire-Bear, could you pour me a cup?"

Gabriel backed away from her and looked at the spy uncomfortably. It got very quiet. Once the spy got his mug, he said, "Gabriel, come with me."

Gabriel sighed and followed him. "Psst!" Claire whispered before he walked out. Gabriel turned back, and she mouthed to him, "Bonne chance."

The spy led Gabriel into his office. "I'm not going to tie you down this time. We're just going to sit together and talk face to face, like men. But I will lock the door since our discussion is confidential. Look, I even got some fresh donuts."

"Merci, but I'm not hungry," Gabriel replied, just as his stomach growled.

The spy smiled. "You think I drugged them, don't you? Come now, Gabriel, you're my guest."

Well, it probably would be rude to refuse food like that. Gabriel chose a chocolate donut and ate it tentatively.

"Now Gabriel, as a matter of interest, what do you remember of our last encounter?"

"Most of it is pretty blurry, but I remember that you accused me of having sympathies with a murderer who shared my name. I later learned that his name is Sylar. And I remember something happened, something amazing that was making my brain race. But I can't remember what it was, now! That dark-skinned man, the one from Haiti, he took it away from me, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did. You see, Gabriel, the thing about this is you weren't supposed to remember anything. When my assistant began his procedure, you went into a trance. Now, that's not too unusual. Most people initially enter a state of hypnosis when the procedure begins. But soon after it started, you went into REM sleep. The way my assistant put it, it was like a dream invaded your consciousness, and it blocked him out. Your brain waves were off the charts, consistent with a sleepwalker. Nothing like that has ever happened before to him. Care to explain how you did that?"

"I don't know. After that happened, the first thing I remembered was waking up at the church buildings after . . . having a dream. Someone from the future was telling me to look for the Piano Man, who happened to be my papa."

"Yes, my assistant told me about him, too. So, this wasn't some sort of trick to keep us out of your head?"

"No! I wouldn't know how to do any of that!"

"Then how did you do it?"

"I told you! Someone from the future altered my dreams!"

"Well, it really messed up my investigation. It told me that you have something to hide."

"I don't hide anything, except for maybe my deepest ambitions. Even those don't stay hidden for long. And I suppose I shouldn't hide from you that I've encountered Sylar three times."

"You have?"

"Yeah. The first time, I didn't know it was him. He tried to strike up a conversation. I felt uncomfortable, and I left. Then he caught me and said he could take out the autism in my brain without hurting me. I tried to refuse, but he somehow pushed me up a wall, and I felt this big headache, so bad I almost felt like I was bleeding. But Papa helped me, and I escaped. The next time I saw I tried to hide from him, but he found me and chased me, but I got away. And the last time, he set up a trap for me. He somehow had found out more about me. He knew that I was from Paris and I'm a hyperlexic, and he used books as bait. He pointed at my forehead, but then he stopped. He said he wanted to see how swollen my cerebral cortex can get. Of course, I got away. What does it all mean?"

"So when he first met you, did you really feel like your head was splitting open?"

"Oh, it was terrible."

"But it looks fine now."

"It was just a headache, wasn't it? Brought on by the stress?"

"No, it wasn't an ordinary headache. Sylar kills his victims the same way. He slices open the top of their heads. Most of his victims all have one thing in common–the lack of a brain."

"What happens to the brain?"

"I have a theory, but it's not suitable to talk about it while we're eating. The point is, if you somehow got away while Sylar was preparing to do that to you, shouldn't you at least have a scar?"

"Well, the way my father helped me was that he turned me into a dove. I learned later that with his ability all wounds are healed as you go from one transformation to the next. What, do you think I'm lying?"

"That remains to be seen. There's another concern I have. It's my understanding that you have an autistic spectrum disorder."

"Yes, but I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"It has plenty to do with everything. There's a man here who's looking for people like you. I know you don't like me, but he's a lot worse."

"Wait. Is he behind the people who took my papa away?"

"Took your papa away," he repeated thoughtfully.

"Was that an answer to my question, or–?"

"I don't know. I have to look into it more fully, perhaps question your father. All I know is four or five years ago, some people like you were abducted and experimented on in order to get them to study any manifested ability."

"So they are! And they'll take him back, won't they?"

"Not if I have anything to say about it. There's another one here in Odessa. You'll see her tonight. She also needs to be protected from them. Her name is Harmony–"

"Miller? I met her when I was here. She dropped a block, and . . ." Why was he telling the spy this?

"Well, if you're already acquainted, it will make things easier. There's one who's about your age, but it might already be too late for him. I hope not. And of course, there's the Oriental girl you brought with you."

"And my Papa!"

"And your papa. All of you need to be protected." He leaned over and looked Gabriel in the eyes, which made the boy very uncomfortable. "Will you allow me that much, Gabriel? Can you learn to trust me?"

Gabriel had to admit, that was a tough call. Future Hiro and Future Claude's warnings (prophecies?) echoed in his head, but he still wasn't sure what to do with them. He still didn't trust this man. He tried to remember what Mohinder said about the spy, but that didn't help much either. Then, he thought about Claire, and her sweet smile came to mind. Finally, he blurted out, "Votre fille, elle est tres sympathique."

"Excuse me?"

Maybe since he said it so quickly, it didn't really translate. He repeated more slowly, "Your daughter is very kind. I know she told me you are not her real father, but you raised her. Therefore, you must also be kind."

The spy nodded. "Thank you. Yes, I try to be, with my family. I love them all so much, some of my actions may not be perceived as kind, I admit. But that is a very astute observation."

"So you care about us?"

"I'll try. I can try to understand."

* * *

At lunch, Gavin again retreated to the library annexed room. As he sat down to eat, he pulled out a piece of paper he had in his pocket. It was an obit, a very brief one--Eden McCain's. It was one of the aliases given for her. He felt that if he remembered what he read about her, he could conjure her more easily. So he read through the paragraph three or four times, then he put it down. "Eden McCain," he said in a low voice.

"Yes?"

He looked across the table. A rather lovely, young woman with short, dark hair was sitting across from him. She smiled mischievously at him. Gavin didn't know why, but he liked her immediately. "Hi. I don't think we've met."

"No, we haven't, but I know who you are, and I think you know who I am."

"Yeah. I like your voice."

Eden giggled. "Yeah. It's been known to win over people."

"So, you knew Mohinder?"

"I knew him, and I knew his father. I was planted in their apartment complex to get information from them."

"To spy on them?"

"I had a specific task. Didn't quite get a chance to complete it."

"Because you d--?" Eden shot him a wide-eyed stare. "Sorry. Do you know he's coming here tonight?"

"Yeah, I heard."

"From who?"

"Never mind."

"You know, it would help me greatly if you talked to him. He was your friend. You could catch up, and maybe get him to tell you what he's been up to lately."

"Sorry, not interested."

"Why not?"

"Because I felt wrong deceiving Mohinder in the past. I didn't even use my powers at their highest potential. I wouldn't feel right about it now. Besides, I don't like being told what to do."

"Hey, I'm the only one you can talk to, so why don't you do what I say?"

"Because people are supposed to do what I say. So," and she said with a distorted voice, "why don't you eat your lunch and leave me alone?"

Gavin suddenly realized how hungry he was and devoured his peanut butter sandwich. He didn't even realize that she disappeared.

* * *

Peter wasn't even sure what he did next, he was so blinded by anger. He just suddenly realized that his hands and throat were sore and Mr. Nakamura said rather loudly, "Do you want to be sent back to solitary?"

"I don't know . . . what's going on? I didn't mean . . ."

"Do you know someone named Nikki Sanders?"

"No, I don't think so. Why?"

"She has been known to do things as this."

"Well, there was this one woman I just saw who had super strength. I tried to call on her power, and ever since then I just felt so angry."

"It is my understanding that she has more than super strength. She has a dark side. Perhaps when you thought of her, you unleashed yours."

"Then I need to control it."

"Yes, you do."

"When I was going off, I wasn't . . . glowing or anything, was I?"

"No, but you were doing everything else. Look at the damage you caused."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I told them to wait for me in the apartment. They probably went out to look for that circle, whatever it is."

"You know, the way I found that she was even alive was using the powers of a little girl. Do you know Molly Walker?"

"No."

"I could drop the charges against my son and bring you to the location so that you can absorb her power."

"Not until I get this under control. Don't worry, I have other ways to finding what they're up to."

* * *

At 6:30 that evening, Franklin and Candace came to Gavin's house in a car evidently made in England; it had the steering wheel on the wrong side and everything.

"Listen," Gavin said uncertainly. "I don't think Eden's going to do it."

"Why do you say that, my boy?" Franklin asked.

"I tried talking to her, like you said. She wants nothing to do with it."

"I still want you to try. If Eden won't do it, get someone who will. This is important, Gavin. We need this information." As they got to the Church building and Gavin walked out, Franklin stopped him. "Wait, son. We want to capture whatever happens in there. We're going to put a extra button on your jacket here. No one will notice it, and it will have a tiny camera to capture what you're doing. So hold still."

He put the button on the jacket. Candace gave Gavin a smile. "You can do it, Gav."

Gavin turned around and waved at her. Nobody had ever gave him a nickname like that before. He liked it.

* * *

As the Bennets went in, Gabriel went straight to the front. The spy put his hand on Gabriel's shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"I have to sit up front. It's just a thing I have."

"Do you have vision problems?"

"Non, not really."

"Then I advise you to sit closer to the back with us, so you'll be less conspicuous."

"Non! I must sit up front!"

"Fine, but be alert."

So he sat on the longest pew up at the front, so he was dead center of the pulpit. Mohinder shortly sat beside him. "Hello, Gabriel. Is Bennet treating you well?"

"He has not treated me badly."

"I told you he was a good man. Gabriel, did you know that the preacher's daughter is autistic?"

"Is her name Harmony?"

"Yes, it is!"

"Oui, I met her."

"And what's more, Bennet told her parents that she has manifested abilities. It may do well for you to talk to them, to tell them what it's like."

"The spy wants me to do that as well."

"You still think of him as–?"

"I'm trying to trust him, and he is trying to trust me, but I think we both are having trouble."

Mohinder sadly nodded. "You said you already read my father's book?"

"Oui."

"Then I'm afraid you're going to hear very little new. Do you have any questions in mind?"

"Non, not right now. I would like to hear what everyone else is asking first. Besides, I could probably ask you anything any time."

Mohinder chuckled.

The meeting started about five minutes later. The auditorium was packed. A song leader came to the pulpit and led the congregation in "Amazing Grace" and "Our God, He is Alive." Then, someone else came forward and led everyone in prayer. Then the preacher introduced Mohinder. Everybody applauded, and Mohinder took the podium.

"Thank you for having me here. First of all, I would like to make clear that I'm not here to argue against creationism or the existence of God. When I was a boy, my father taught me that nothing is true that science cannot prove. I know there are many of my colleagues who agree. Yet I remember Albert Einstein's words, 'Science without religion is lame. Religion without science is blind.' I look at this world, and I don't see randomness and happenstance. I see design, and I do want to believe that there is something greater than us who made it happen. And it thrills me that He continues to work."

There was a little bit of mumbling at these words. From there, Mohinder went into the basics of his talk, and it was pretty much the material from Chandra's book. Sometimes, he quoted it verbatim. He talked for about an hour, then he prepared to answer questions. That was quite crazy. Someone heard of Mohinder's God-is-a-cockroach theory, and that drew some ire, but Mohinder responded to the question rather gracefully. It could have been a lot worse. Gabriel's eyes were wide the whole time. He was fascinated with everything.

Michael, on the other hand, wasn't paying attention at all. He was sitting in the back with the Bennet's, and he noticed a man sitting a few pews over. The man had dark skin and a fixed expression. Dangling from his neck was a gold necklace that looked like a long S with a couple of lines drawn through it. "That could be him! The man who can make me forget!" Michael thought. He kept glancing over at that mysterious man and ended up staring at him.

Gavin, who was sitting in the back, also wasn't paying much attention. He was too focused on his task, mentally trying to convince Eden to do the deed, but he knew she wasn't budging. He was trying to figure out who else could talk to this Indian guy will be useful to talk to him. Claire looked back at him a few times and smiled. He pretended like he didn't see her.

Everything was finished by about 9:00. Sitting still for that long really took its toll, and Gabriel had to fight through the crowds to get to the men's room. Mohinder also went back to the foyer so that he could greet people. The dark-skinned man walked out into the parking lot.

Michael watched him in the parking lot, talking softly in French on a cellphone. It has to be him. They speak French in Haiti, and he sure looks Haitian. And he has that funny necklace that Peter talked about. He is the one who can help him. Michael took a deep breath and pictured the disguise he practiced in New York. He was so nervous, now that the moment had come. "I can't be nervous. It's for my son," he thought. He began to approach the man slowly, but when he hung up Michael ran up to him.

"Excusez-moi!" he called. "I need your help, please!" He stopped before him, caught his breath, and spoke with an anxious voice. "Please, I hear you make people forget. I beg you, take away the last four years of my life. Do not ask me why, just work your magic. Please, baptize me in the Lethe!"

The man looked at him with an unaffected expression and replied, "No."

"Please! What can I do that you can save me?"

"I am sorry. I will not do it."

"Why not?"

"There are many reasons. For one, I am not sure if I can. Your son–"

"What? Who said I had a son?"

"I know who you are, Monsieur Bonhomme. I've seen your picture."

"But I . . . how could you?"

"You tried to disguise yourself, didn't you? Look here." The Haitian pointed at a side-view mirror of a car. Michael looked in it and saw that he had not changed at all.

"It didn't work, but I was sure–"

"Your powers do not work around me. That is another gift of mine, I am afraid."

Michael turned back to him, even more fearful. "Please, my son has nothing to do with terrorist or killers. Neither of us do."

"I know, Monsieur Bonhomme. I know he is not evil. I saw his dream to win the Nobel Prize. I know he desires to unite people like you and to help others accept you."

"He does? I knew he wanted to win the Nobel, but I didn't know it had anything to do with–"

"He doesn't know that either. When I saw his dream, I took it away from him. He'll find it again. My boss is only concerned because after I saw that, another dream took over your son's mind and shut me out. I fear that if I took your memories, the same might happen to you."

"Well, is there anything you can do to help me?"

"I believe that the most painful memories make men the strongest. I know those memories cause you agony. I know what happened to you was wrong. You don't understand it now, but you need those memories."

"Why? They only make me miserable, and to think of how my son suffered on top of it just makes it worse."

"You will understand in time."

Michael was starting to get a little annoyed now. "Thanks for nothing." He spat on the ground and turned away.

"But there is something I can give you!"

Michael turned back. "What is it?"

"Closure."

"What closure?"

"Don't you want to know who did this and why?"

"Well, I know why. Someone was mad that I was autistic. They wanted me to be Rain Man, and when I didn't fit that stereotype, they sent me to Rain Man Boot Camp."

"That is . . . not unlike what I've heard, but it is not quite like that."

"Then what is it? Tell me!"

The Haitian shook his head. "I don't know the full story, only a few disconnected details. But I will help you gather the facts and confront the people who did this to you."

"When do we start?"

"If you wish, right now."

* * *

Gavin stood in the back of the foyer and stared at Mohinder. This is it, do or die. Someone, anyone has to talk to him, get the information out. But if Eden wouldn't do it . . .

"Very well done, Mohinder."

It took a little while for Mohinder to register the voice as the speaker was shaking his hand, but once he heard it, he stared up with amazement. "Father?"

"You're doing a good job, son. I normally would not approve of you taking up my work without my permission, but as I have been . . . unable–"

"Unable? What do you mean? You're alive!" Mohinder grabbed his father's arms, and he felt flesh and bone. "You're alive!" he repeated, almost close to tears. "Where have you been?"

"Mohinder, please don't ask me."

"Why didn't you help me?!"

"Mohinder, I cannot say. You don't understand."

Gavin felt so stupid. Of all the people, his father? This was a disaster.

Gabriel was coming back from the restroom, and he saw Mohinder talking to his father. "Chandra Suresh? I thought he was dead," Gavin thought aloud. He went up closer hoping to talk to him, but as he walked by he brushed by Gavin. "Excusez-mo–" he started to say, but then, Gavin glowed a brilliant yellow as Gabriel also glowed blue. Gavin bowed over, almost blinded by the light, and the high-pitched hum in his ears was excruciating. Gabriel backed away a step. "C'est vous," he said.

Gavin's eyes grew wide. He did this? He ran away through the empty hall of classes.

"Wait!" Gabriel ran after him.

The light grabbed Mohinder's attention, and he turned away from his father for a few seconds. He turned back and found he was gone. "Father? Father?"

Gavin hid in a classroom, but Gabriel was soon distracted. "Where's Papa?" He looked back through the crowd, but Papa wasn't there. He looked in the men's restroom, but Papa wasn't there. He looked in the parking lot, but Papa wasn't there. However, the spy was.

"Gabriel? You ready to leave?"

"Have you seen Papa?"

"I was actually wondering about him. My assistant's car is gone. I wouldn't worry. If he's with him, he's in good hands."

"You're assistant? Isn't he–?"

"Gabriel, trust me on this."

Gabriel wasn't sure if he could if his father was in danger, but he knew the problem wouldn't be easily resolved. So he changed the subject. "That boy you told me about, the one that's my age who's in danger, he's in there."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I ran into him. Il blesse."

"He hurts? What do you mean? Did he hurt you?"

"Non. He's . . . he's very sad, lonely. I don't know why, but when I passed by him, I suddenly felt . . . like I never had a friend."

"Are you talking about Gavin?" Claire asked from the car.

"Oui! That was his name."

"I knew I saw him! Dad, I wanted to talk to him, but he got away from me."

"Do you have your license, Claire?"

"Yeah."

"Then why don't you take Gabriel home? I'll have a few words with Gavin myself."

* * *

Peter, again in the guise of Hiro, was drawing more pictures. Kaito provided him with colored pencils (without letting the guards know) so that Peter could get a more accurate picture of what was happening. He drew one of Gabriel riding on a strange bicycle with three wheels and a basket in the back. There was something very long in that basket, but Peter couldn't tell what it was. He noticed that the famous Las Vegas sign was behind Gabriel's shoulder. Then he drew one of Hanami who looked like she was hugging air, a terrified look on her face. The real Hiro was standing in front of her, furious, his sword drawn. And standing in the doorway was–

The gate opened. "Nakamura!" the guard said. "Although your daughter has still not been found, your father has decided to clear you of all charges. Get up!" Peter stood, and the guard grabbed his arm. "I suggest you thank him next time you see him for his generosity."

"I will, sir," Peter said darkly.

* * *

Gavin stood alone under the canopy. They're supposed to be here to pick him up. What could be taking them? Nearly everybody is gone now.

"Hey!" a voice called. He looked across the parking lot and saw a man standing alone, calling to him. At first glance, Gavin thought it was Franklin, but then he said, "It's Gavin Wright, isn't it? Claire's told me a lot about you." It was Mr. Bennet. And for some reason, Gavin was suddenly afraid because he was alone.

He put his hand in his pocket, shaped it like a gun, and pointed it to him. "Don't come any closer!"

Bennet stopped in his tracks, but he chuckled. "Or you'll do what? Shoot me? You're only a boy. Besides, I think we both know that even if you managed to shoot me, it wouldn't stop me from coming toward you. Sure, it might stop my body, but it won't stop me."

"Not another step! Stay where you are!"

"I know what's going on, Gavin. You think you're a spy, don't you? It makes you feel important. I know it's fun, but I hate to break your little delusion. You're not a spy, Gavin. You're a guinea pig. I think you ought to know now before they make you run in mazes or, I don't know, cut you open and analyze you down to the last neuron."

"I don't care what they do to me."

"I think that's a lie. Gavin, I'm here to offer you refuge. Come with me before it's too late."

Isn't there anybody who can talk to him? What about Jackie? But he could already hear her say, "Uh-uhh," and shaking her head in his mind. But who else does he know? Thompson won't do any good; he's the guy who killed him. But who else–?

She was standing next to Bennet before Gavin could even ask her. Why is it they always have a mind of their own? Why won't they ever do what he wants them to do? But then he listened to her soft, sweet voice.

"Why don't you give the kid a break, Bennet?"

He looked over at her without the slightest bit of surprise. "Eden, please. This is between me and him."

"Do you remember when you found me? I was running away from an abusive home in a stolen car. I thought I had everything under control. Then you took me in, brought me into the company, and said that if I continued on my merry way I would . . ."

Bennet sighed, "Odds were, you'd be dead in a week."

Eden looked him in the eyes. "This is where he belongs, Bennet. He hasn't belonged anywhere his whole life."

"No," Bennet said shaking his head.

Gavin thought of another threat he could use, something that would shake this has-been to the core. "They want you! You know that, they're still looking for you! They want your daughter!"

"He's bluffing," Eden said softly. "He's not interested in Claire in any form or fashion. I don't think it's you he's after either." She smiled mysteriously. "You wanna know what he's really after?"

"Not particularly." He continued to walk up to Gavin. The boy kept trying to stop him, but he was running out of threats and excuses. Bennet finally stood before him. He looked Gavin in the eyes and whispered, "You'll never belong with them."

Gavin didn't know what to say, but then a horn honked. He turned and saw an English car had pulled up next to the canopy. Franklin and Candace were both there. "You may be right," Gavin replied softly. Still, he walked backwards and got into the car.

Candace was watching him closely. She looked over at Bennet. She didn't know if he saw her.

"Here, Gavin, sit in the passenger side. You'll feel like you're driving. In fact, Candace?" Candace looked over at Gavin's side, and a steering wheel appeared in front of him. Gavin gasped. "Don't worry, boy. Just put your hands on it. I'll still do the driving."

"I'm . . . sorry I didn't give you much information."

"Oh, you gave us more than you know."

* * *

All the work he put in for this day meant nothing now. The only thing Mohinder could think about was the talk he had with his father. Was it real? How could it have been?

"Hey Mohinder?" Mr. Miller asked. "Where's that young man you told me about?"

"Oh. Oh, I don't know. I didn't see where he . . . I'm sorry. I'm not myself. I feel out of it. Mr. Miller, did you happen to see another Indian man who . . . had no hair?"

"You mean tonight?"

"Yes."

"I can't say that I have."

Mohinder felt a headache coming on. Who could it have been? And what was that light about?

* * *

"Thanks for the ride," Gavin said softly as he got out.

"No problem, kid," Franklin replied. "Hey, we might have another job for you soon."

Bennet's words still echoed in his mind, but Gavin slowly nodded. "OK. Goodbye."

He started walking toward the house, but then he heard a whisper from the shadows. "Hey, Gav!"

He turned to the corner of his house and saw Candace standing there, smiling at him.

"Candace? What is it? Why didn't you leave with Franklin?"

"I just wanted to say something to you, something kinda personal. See, I kinda like you, Gav. I like your style. You remind me of my best friend in high school."

"Thanks, but why would someone like you be friends with someone like me?"

Candace gave a breathy chuckle. "Here. I wanna show you something, something I've never shown anyone, not even them." She cocked her head toward where the car was.

Gavin backed away. "Are you sure I wanna see this?"

Candace laughed again. "Relax. I think you'll think it's cool." She continued to smile at him, and then she changed. Standing where she once stood was a big girl, probably well over 200 pounds, wearing black clothes, black lipstick, several piercings (most notably on her lip), and warts all over her face. "This is what I really look like," she said in a husky voice.

Gavin backed away a few steps and looked in another direction while saying, "Uh."

"What is it? You're just like everybody else aren't you, repulsed at this?"

"No, not really. I just, it's just not what I was expecting. Actually, I'm kinda glad you like that and not a prissy airhead."

She laughed again, this time a really weird, snorting laugh. "I heard that!" She came a closer to him. "Listen, Gav. Black being our favorite color isn't all we have in common. I know just what you're going through. I've been teased and stigmatized, one of the outcast. Learned the hard way that the prissy airhead look is the only look that matters in this world. When it got to much, I ran away and found solace in the Company. They got a lot of promises, Gav. They're going to change the world, to heal the world. Soon, we won't be minority anymore. And you and I are going to change things. I saw you talking to Bennet. I know he's filled your mind with doubt, but really what does he know? He's the father of a cheerleader, the biggest airheads there are! There's no reason to listen to him. We're your new family, Gav. This is where you belong." She kept coming closer and closer, and then she paused after saying this, and slowly her face moved closer to his, and she opened her mouth, her lip ring scratched his chin.

"Aaah!" Gavin screamed and backed away.

"What?"

"Please, don't get that close. I can't let anybody gets that close. I once bit Mom on the nose."

"What are you afraid of?"

"I don't know! I just am." He sighed. "Listen, Candace–"

"You can call me 'Candy' if you want."

"Candy, you're nice and kinda cool, but it's not like that. I don't think you understand. The Company can help me get where I want to be, but it's not where I belong."

"Well, what do you want?"

He turned away. "They won't tell me anything. They won't tell me what I want to know. I made one of them tell me everything, and when he said the first word, he disappeared, and I never saw him again. There's only one way to figure it out."

"What are you talking about?"

"Isn't it obvious?" a voice said behind her. Candace quickly changed to her original form and turned around. Thompson was standing there smiling.

"Don't scare me like that, Gav," she said as she turned back around, but Gavin wasn't there. She heard the front door close. Thompson disappeared. Candace sighed and headed back for the car.

* * *

The real Hiro finally materialized in New York. As soon as he could, he found Peter's apartment. He pounded on the door. "HANAMI! HANAMI!" He could hear a television on, but he heard no movement toward the door. He drew his sword and with a loud battle cry charged in, but the door opened as he charged. Hiro lost his balance for a moment. He looked up. "Hello? Hanami? Hanami?"

The door closed by itself behind him.

To be continued . . .


	13. Back to Vegas

Chapter 13: Back to Vegas

Mohinder–"As animals respond to instinct, every hero is called on a quest. It may come at the most inopportune moment, when it is least expected. But a hero has a strength to answer the call that he may save others, and perhaps save himself."

Claude Rains–New York

Claude was house-sitting Peter's apartment. He decided that with everyone gone he might as well. It was nice having his own place again, sorta. He was flipping through the channels until he found a "Dr. Who" episode. "Oh, they brought this show back," he thought aloud. "Maybe there's hope for this world yet." He got a cold one out of the fridge and was just about to relax when there was a loud knock on the door.

"HANAMI! HANAMI!" a Japanese voice was yelling.

Claude sighed. "What now?" He went up to the door and looked through the little lense. He saw a young Japanese guy with glasses. The guy pulled something from behind his back and took a few steps backward. Just for fun, as he charged forward, Claude opened the door. Claude suppressed a snicker as the intruder lost his balance.

The Japanese guy looked up. "Hello? Hanami? Hanami?"

Oh, Claude knew what this was. He shut the door. The kid obviously didn't notice that the door closed behind him, by itself. "Well, well, Nakamura Junior," Claude said. "Last time I saw you, you were knee-high."

The kid gasped when he heard Claude's voice, and he was shaking like a leaf. "Who's there? Where are you?" he said in a small voice.

Claude decided that he could have some fun with this guy. "Right here." He tapped the kid's shoulder. He turned around, but of course there was no one there. Claude chuckled then tapped again. He turned around, and still saw no one. This happened quite a few times, and Claude couldn't help having a blast. Finally, Hiro drew his sword again. "Whoa! Didn't your mum ever tell you you could put an eye out with something sharp like that?"

"Sh-sh-show yourself, oni!"

"Oni? Oh, that's what you think I am, a Japanese demon! No, no, I'm just invisible."

"I don't believe it. It's a trick."

"Fine." He closed all the blinds closed in the apartment. Then, he made himself visible. "You happy?"

"Uhhhh . . ."

"Good." Instantly, he disappeared. "Now put that away! It's not like I'm immortal or anything."

"Where's Hanami?"

"Oh, she's in Texas. She went with that French boy to hear Mahatma speak."

"Where in Texas? Odessa? Midland?"

"Hey, it's a big state. How should I kn–wait, it is in Odessa. They should be back in a few days."

"Can't wait that long." Hiro sheathed his sword, shut his eyes, and tensed up.

"Well, at least I got rid of him," Claude thought. "Now, back to the telly." He turned around, but then he saw daylight. "Ah!" His eyes hurt as they adjusted. "What the . . . Union Wells High School? No! I can't be in Odess–"

"Yatta! Hanami, here I come!" The Japanese man started running.

"OK, fun time's over." He didn't take two steps before Claude hit him and pinned him to a wall. "Why did you take me with you?"

"I-I-I didn't mean to. Were we touching?"

"No. I wasn't anywhere near you."

"I don't know. I didn't want to take you."

"Send me back!"

"Bu-bu-but I don't know how!"

"Figure it out! I'm not going to stay here. This is the last place in the world I need to be."

"Maybe you came for a reason. Maybe I need to you to help my niece. Maybe . . . it is destiny!"

Claude tightened his grip. "You know what? I changed my mind. I am an oni! So, Scotty, if you don't beam me up right now, I'll put a curse on you and your whole family, starting with your precious little niece."

"OK. Become visible."

"No!"

"But I need you to."

"I can't risk it!"

"How can I send you back if I can't even see you?"

Claude reluctantly loosened his grip. "You got a point. Alright, you win, but I don't want you to make any acknowledgment that I exist. Don't talk to me. Don't talk about me. Don't wait up for me when you walk. Don't even look in my direction. I'm not here, you got it?"

"Out of sight, out of mind."

"Exactly. Now, off with you!" He finally let go, and Hiro ran for the cheerleader's house. Claude had to admit, maybe the guy had a point. Maybe he did want to help the little one. No, no, he wanted to watch the Doctor. It's like the guy said, "Out of sight, out of mind." Now, why was Claude following him? If he's found, he could be killed . . . again. Claude sighed angrily at himself. "Why am I such a fool?"

* * *

Gabriel Bonhomme–Odessa, Texas

He was on his three-wheeled bike. He had no idea how he got it here from Paris, but he was glad that he had it. He had to find Papa. It was so dark and so hot. He saw that boy from the symposium. As soon as the boy saw Gabriel, he started running away. "Wait!" Gabriel called after him, but he wouldn't stop.

Someone walked in front of him in the middle of the road. It was the spy. "There's no reason to run away, Gabriel. Everything is fine. Your father is safe, trust me."

"How do you know?" Gabriel said. He tried to ride around him, but he couldn't move.

"Hey, I'm a spy. What do you expect me to say?" he answered with a devilish grin.

Suddenly, Monsieur Rains appeared, holding the handlebars. "What did I tell ya? Misanthrope's looking pretty good now, isn't it?"

He made a mistake making himself visible. Gabriel pushed him off and rode around him. "Papa! Papa! Ou ette vous? Papa!" Fear tightened in his chest with every pedal. He was breathing so hard, sweating tremendously. He felt thirsty, but he had to keep doing.

He finally saw the Haitian at a rest stop, laying Michael down on a picnic table. Gabriel came closer. "Pacifez, Monsieur Bonhomme," the Haitian said softly. "Soon, you will forget everything."

"The whole four-year nightmare?" Michael asked softly.

"Of course," the Haitian answered as he put his hand on Michael's head. "All of it, as well as Paris, your wife, your son, your name."

Blood was trickling from the Haitian's fingers. Michael cried out in pain. The Haitian laughed evilly, reached up with his free hand, and tore off his face. It was–

"Sylar!" Gabriel screamed. "Leave him alone, take me!"

Sylar looked up at Gabriel and pointed at him. Gabriel expected to feel the pain in his head, but instead his bike started to shake very violently. Gabriel grabbed on the handlebars as hard as he could

Then he realized that someone was shaking him awake in the wee hours of the morning. Gabriel opened his eyes surprised to see Future Hiro looking at him.

"What are you–?"

"Shh!" Hiro whispered. "I found him."

"Papa?"

"Uh . . . no, the person I told you about."

"The person who knows about the Circle?"

Hiro nodded. "He's a shaman living in an Indian reservation in northwest Nevada. You know what a shaman is, right?"

"Oui, it's a mystical Native American healer or something."

Hiro nodded. "You probably ought to leave right away. Take a Greyhound bus to Reno, get provisions, especially lots of water, and go north."

"Wait, Las Vegas is in Nevada, right? Why don't I stop by Micah's house to get provisions"

"That will make the journey even longer and harder. Las Vegas is in south Nevada, a long way off. You have to cross a great desert. No Greyhound buses go there."

"But he does need to stop in Las Vegas," another voice said. Someone came out of the shadows.

"You stay out of this," Hiro said sharply to him.

"It's my future too," he replied. He came into the light so that Gabriel could see him more clearly.

"Peter? What happened to your face?"

"Long story. Listen, you do need to make a quick stop in Las Vegas. Sneak into the back of the museum portion of the Corinthian hotel, go to the main computer, and dial in this call number." He handed Gabriel a slip of paper. "Better yet, get Micah to help you. If anyone gives you any trouble, tell them that Congressman Nathan Petrelli's mother has the papers to prove that this is yours by right. Trust me, it will make the journey easier. Do you understand?"

"I think so."

"Repeat it back to me."

"There's no time for that," Hiro whispered. "Go, go, go!"

Gabriel got up. "Should I take Hanami?"

"I'm leaving her with Bennet. She'll be fine, but you can speak. Hurry!"

"Alright! I'm hurrying!" Gabriel grabbed what he had left of his money, shoved it in the pocket of his jeans, and wrote a very brief note. Then he walked out the door.

"Good luck, Gabriel," Hiro said softly.

"Goodness knows you'll need it," Peter added. Hiro looked at him coldly, and they both disappeared.

* * *

Gavin Wright–Odessa, Texas

He woke up on his own, and he looked over his clock and saw that his mother was already five minutes late. He could hear her voice talking to someone. He quickly put on some clothes and got out to see what she was doing.

"Are you sure it has to be this weekend? I mean, it's rather sudden."

"Yes, I know Mrs. Wright, but there's nothing more that we can do. We need him."

Gavin came in closer. "Mom?"

"Oh, honey. Sorry I didn't wake you up. This young lady was just telling me you have a conference with the paper factory. I'm very proud of you for being chosen to represent them after just a few days of working with them."

"Yeah, that's great. When is it?"

"Well, actually, you have to leave right away. So, let's start getting you packed."

Gavin looked over into the living room expecting to see Candace, but there was another woman sitting there that he didn't recognized. She smiled and waved at him. He smiled back for a moment. It was just like with Eden. He suddenly liked her, but he couldn't explain why.

His mother helped him get packed quickly. As they were walking out with his suitcase, he suddenly realized that he may not be coming back. He turned around and said, "I love you, Mom."

Mrs. Wright seemed a little surprised. "I love you too, son." She gave him a big hug, but he didn't hug back.

Then he got into the car. "Where's Candy?"

"Candy?"

"Candace. That's what she told me to call her. She calls me Gav."

"Well, isn't that cute. Franklin may have sent Candace, but I tend to be more . . . persuasive. Name's Allison."

"Nice you meet you."

"And you."

"So, where are we going?"

"You're going on a little trip. You remember that kid that bumped into you last night, the one that made you all . . . shiny?"

Gavin didn't want to remember that experience. He thought of the near blindness and that awful hum.

"We want you to follow him, see what he's up to. You know, that wasn't the first time he did that glow thing. He glows, too. They say his color is bright blue, like the sky. We want to find out why he does it. We have intelligence that he just bought bus tickets to go to Las Vegas. We'll pay your bus fare so that you can tail the kid. Aren't you the lucky one? You get to have all the fun."

"Wait, you're saying I'm going alone?"

"Oh, don't worry. We got plenty of people up there. It used to be one of our many headquarters. Unfortunately, the head honcho up there was killed, but you may be able to get help from one of his closest advisors, Jessica Sanders."

"Franklin didn't tell you my power, did he?"

"He might have said something. I wasn't really listening."

* * *

Claire Bennet–Odessa, Texas

She also was shaken awake. "Claire-bear, wake up," a voice was saying gently above her.

"Daaaaaad," she moaned sleepily as she turned over.

"Come on, honey. I need to translate something for me. It's written in French."

"Why don't you just ask Gabriel to do it?"

"It's from Gabriel. He's gone."

Claire's eyes snapped open. "Huh?" The next thing she knew, she was looking at a piece of paper over a cup of coffee. "Well, this big word up here is 'important.'"

"Yeah, I gathered that," her father answered, seeing that it was spelled exactly the same as the English word.

"Man, his handwriting is terrible."

"Can you read it ok?"

"I think so. Wonder why he didn't write in English?"

"Probably because he was in a hurry, or maybe because he didn't have an English speaker to use as a frame of reference."

"What?"

"Well, his powers aren't very refined. He doesn't realize what language he's speaking when he's speaking it, and everything sounds like French. The more he understands his power, the more he'll be sensitive to which languages he's working with and will be able to pull them out of his head when he needs them. But we're stalling. We got to get to work on this."

"OK, let see. That's an irregular verb. 'Je vais . . .' 'I go' or 'I am going,' 'du nord . . .' oh, I don't know. Maybe that's north. I'll check it. But 'I am going north of,' 'couvert dans la niege?' 'La niege?' That's 'snow.' So, 'I am going north of something in the snow.' The mountains, maybe?"

"Wait, what does this sentence say?"

"Je' that's 'I' again 'm'arrete,' well, I don't know what that m is for, but the other is a form of the word to stop, so 'I am stopping,' 'brievement,' that's usually an adverb of some sort, -ment is like their version of -ly, 'a . . . Las Vegas?'"

"That solves the problem here. 'Nevada' in Spanish means 'covered in snow.'"

"Well, why didn't he translate Las Vegas?"

"He's probably more family about what that word represents. Go on."

"I do not know . . . when or if . . . I will return. 'S'il vous plait,' if you please, find Papa, take care of . . . wait, that's Japanese. I don't know Japanese."

Bennet ran his fingers across the characters. "Ha-na-mi."

Claire stared at him. "I didn't know you could read Japanese!"

He smiled mysteriously. "There's a lot about me you don't know. Go ahead."

"And tell . . . is that Greek?"

"Hmmm. 'Petros.' Must be Peter."

"And how did you know that?"

"It's something you'll pick up in college, round about Rush Week."

"Mr. . . . Rain? . . . and . . . let me guess, Mohinder?"

"Probably so."

"'Je suis desole,' I am sorry. This is something I must do. Gabriel."

"Alright. Thank you."

"So now what? You going to go after him?"

"Not yet. I'll just keep an eye on him." He pulled out a device and looked at the blinking dot.

"Wait, I thought you said the tracking system was destroyed."

"I started another one, just for people I thought were in league with Sylar."

"What? Gabriel?"

"At the time, I thought he was."

"Dad, who's Mr. Rain?"

"I have a hunch, but I'm not sure."

"Is it the real Rain Man?"

Bennet shrugged. "Maybe. It doesn't really concern you."

* * *

Sylar–Isaac's Loft, New York

Ever since he painted the Circle, he'd been painting relentlessly, trying to find how he could capture it. In one picture, he was standing outside a small ranch house. There was a boy standing out there with him, and all around him were . . . but that's impossible! They can't be there. This has to mean something, and even if it's something that could lead to his undoing, he had to find it. That boy was behind it. He could tell. Maybe that power could be useful, if it's what he thinks it is.

* * *

Gabriel had flipped through all the traveler's brochures in the rack, and now he was so bored. Future Hiro rushed him out the door so fast, he wasn't able to get any breakfast, not even a cup of coffee. He was really starting to feel that now. The bus wasn't going to be here for another half hour. This was awful. He couldn't leave because the bus might come while he's gone. But now he felt so hungry and there was nothing to do, no one to talk to.

"One ticket to Las Vegas, please."

Gabriel looked toward the speaker and was surprised to see the same boy as from the symposium at the ticket booth. The boy got his ticket and sat down on a bench behind Gabriel. Gabriel got up and sat on the same bench, on the other side. "Salut!" (Hi!) he said cheerfully.

The boy turned around and looked at the floor.

"I remember you. You were at the thing with Mohinder Suresh last night."

"Yeah."

"What did you think? Wasn't it fascinating?"

"It was ok."

"I'm Gabriel. What's your name?"

"Gavin."

"I hear you're going to Las Vegas, too. What for? Hitting the casinos?"

"Are you crazy? I'm too young. I'm . . . looking for someone."

"Me too." Gabriel lowered his voice. "Why did you run away from me?"

"I don't know if you can tell, but I'm not much into the happy sunshine look."

"Sorry. I don't know how that happened. It's happened a few times but only with a few people." He asked in an even softer voice, "Why do you hurt?"

"What are you talking about? I'm fine."

"You feel sad, lonely. It's very strong. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No! I don't what you're talking about. I'm not sad! And I'm certainly not lonely! I don't need people! Now, leave me alone!"

He sounds a lot like Monsieur Rains. "Could we still just talk? I'm so bored."

"Well, get out your cellphone and call someone who cares!"

"I don't have a cellphone. Actually, I do, or I did, but it's not mine."

"Didn't you hear the last part of my sentence?"

"Fine! Sorry." It's a shame. If this guy really does hurt, he didn't want anything done to help the pain.

"Attention passengers: the 8:30 bus to Las Vegas is now arriving in the station. All those leaving for Las Vegas, please prepare for departure."

The two boys got up at the same time and went outside. An attendant came to help them with their luggage, but neither of them had any. Gabriel went up to board first. There was an old guy as the driver, and he looked a little familiar to Gabriel. He couldn't put his finger on it. "Hey, young fella. Where are your parents?"

"That's a good question, monsieur."

* * *

Hiro found the house again. He knocked on the door. A man with horned-rimmed glasses answered. "I remember you. You killed the man who tried to kill my daughter. I'm in your debt." He smiled and shook hands with Hiro.

"Is your daughter here?"

"No, she's at school, but I think you came here for someone else. Come on in."

Claude was way behind and out of breath, but he saw who Hiro was talking to. "It had to be him," he muttered.

Hiro went into the living room, and he found a little girl lying on the couch. "Hanami?"

She got up, all smiles. "Uncle Hiro!" She reached out her to hug him, and he picked her up in his arms. He was laughing and crying at the same time.

"Maybe if I just peeked into the windows," Claude thought. He looked into the windows at the living room, but it was good. "I can't see! Why did I have to get so old?" He turned back to the porch and noticed that the front door was open a crack. "Well, Noah, left the front door open, didn't you? You never were very smart." He squeezed in carefully, trying to make it look like the wind opened the door instead of a person. "Just one quick look, and you're out of here before you can say 'Bob's your uncle,'" he thought.

"When are you going to be ready to come home?" Hiro asked Hanami gently. "Your parents miss you."

Claude stood in the doorway, still trying to catch his breath. "OK, looks like the little love's fine." As much as he tried to restrain himself, he couldn't stop breaking into a smile. But then, she looked straight at him. "Uh-oh."

She got out of Hiro's arms. "Mr. Rains!" She ran right for him and hugged his legs.

"No, no, no, no, no, no!" he cried. He got down to her level and whispered, "Love, you can't tell anyone I'm here."

"Why?"

"Because I'm hiding from them!"

"Why?"

"Well, if you must know, the man who lives here once tried to kill me."

"Why?"

"Actually, that's a . . . pretty good question."

"Don't hurt her, oni!" the Japanese guy said as he drew his sword again.

"Will you relax? I'm not going to hurt her! She didn't know!"

"She went straight for you! I don't know how she can see, but I held up my part of the deal! Don't hurt her!"

He stood and faced Hiro and said more loudly than he meant to, "Will you cut it out with the oni thing? Do I sound like I'm an oni?"

"Claude?" He looked across the room as Bennet walked in. "Claude, is that you?"

Claude had never felt more angry with himself.

* * *

It had been a couple of hours since they started the journey. Gavin sat a row over from Gabriel. Gavin looked over at Gabriel periodically, still having his job in mind. Gabriel, though, looked like he was trying to sleep. Gavin was bored. The driver had on one of those mix stations, mostly with old, fogey rock. Linkin Park's "In the End" came on, and Gavin felt better for about three minutes. Now Coldplay's "Clocks" was playing, which felt to him exactly the opposite of Linkin Park, so lame.

He looked out the window and started to think about some of the benefits of being in the Company. Was it the place that he belonged? He had to admit, lately he's been quite the Ladies' Man. Eden was pretty sweet. Too bad she's dead, but Allison, she's almost the same. She seem pretty nice, and that accent of hers was kinda sexy. But Candy, man. When he first saw her, he didn't think they were ever going to get along. She didn't even want him there. But last night, she called him a nickname, a cool nickname. And she gave him a nickname that he could call her. Oh, why did he push her away when she tried to kiss him? Thinking back on it, he felt kinda stupid. He coulda closed his eyes as she came near. Oh, Candy. She's so awesome.

"Candy," a raspy voice said next to him. "That's cute."

Gavin turned around and saw this tall guy just like him, black jeans, black jacket, long black hair. He must have been the coolest guy Gavin had ever conjured. "Whoa," Gavin gasped. The thought even crossed his mind that this could be the first celebrity he ever met. "Are you Joey Ramone?"

The guy gave a chuckle and turned to Gavin. He had acne all over his face, a nose ring, and a pierced eyebrow. He still looked awesome, but he definitely wasn't Joey Ramone. "Name's Ren."

"Gavin."

"Yeah, I know. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about her. No one knows her as well as I do."

"Hey, you're Candy's friend from high school, the one she told me I reminder her of!" She didn't mention he was dead. Must have been a car accident. Wasn't wearing his seat belt, or maybe it was a drug overdose. Maybe he committed suicide!

"First off," Ren said, "her name isn't Candy."

"I know that. Her name's Candace. This is a nickname she said I could call her."

"Her name is Betty."

"No, it's not. It's Candace."

"How do you know?"

"Everybody calls her Candace. She says her name is–"

"Look, different face, different name. It really doesn't change things, though. I tried to teach Betty to accept herself, no matter what anybody says or does. She said she always respected me because I was genuine, that I got it. I thought she did, too, but she didn't. She became one of them."

"She's not one of them! She showed me last night, she's one of us on the inside."

"When she got her power . . . yeah, I know all about it, I saw it in all of its horror . . . it's like she got a whole line of masks, perfectly fitted to her face. She thinks it's so great. Now whenever she wants, she put on any mask she wants, become whatever she wants, and take it off in the end. It's always the same thing–put it on, take it off, put it on, take it off, put it on, take it off. But one day, she'll try to take it off, and she'll just find another mask underneath. She'll keep trying to find the final mask, the one over her true visage, and when she does, it will feel too much like her real skin that it'll hurt to take off. She may think she's still one of us, but that day, Betty will become one of them. I think that day isn't far off."

"I don't believe it."

"Believe it, bro. You better, anyway, before it's too late. See, she did something . . . terrible."

Gavin's eyes widened. He knew that Ren hit on the taboo topic of his own death. "No! She didn't! She wouldn't! Not, not Candy!"

"I told you. She's not Candy; she's Betty." As he talked, he seemed to fade away. Obviously, he said all he was going to, and he left Gavin alone with feelings of doubt and betrayal.

* * *

Claude was in the home office with Bennet, still kicking himself for making him find him out. "Alright, Noah, let's get one thing clear–I don't exist. I'm dead. In fact, as memory serves, you killed me."

"So, right now I'm talking to your ghost?"

"No, actually you're hearing voices. That's right, you're completely mental. My advice is you check yourself in to New Bedlam in the morning."

"And that young man in the living room, he's crazy too?"

"Of course he is! He kept calling me an oni, a Japanese demon! I'm a lot of things, but I'm not Japanese."

"Claude, we can play this charade and pretend you're not here, or we can pick up where we left off."

"Oh, we're not doing that. You made it bluntly clear that I don't belong in your little club."

Bennet, while he was talking, closed the blinds and the curtains. "I remember you telling me that it was difficult to hold it sometimes."

"It became more natural with time."

Bennet locked the door. "It's just you and me. Let's talk face to face. I'm not going to call the Company on you, Scout's honor."

Man, he hated this, but he knew the day was just going to get longer if he didn't do it. Claude took a deep breath and became visible.

"Good gracious! What's happened to you?"

"I don't know, goodness knows how long I've been on the lamb. But that's the beauty of invisibility. If nobody sees you, it don't matter what you look like. But smell is another story."

Bennet laughed. "Glad to see you haven't lost that quick English wit."

"Oh, no, no, I was born with that. It's in my blood. It's my faith in humanity that I lost. You, by the way, take most of the credit for that. Congratulations."

"Listen, Claude, that was then. I've changed."

Claude scoffed. "No you haven't! Wasn't it just last October that you tried to kill me again? Not to mention, my latest pupil."

"I've changed since then. You knew how it was. I was all about the Company. I was so sure that they stood for something good, something noble. But I was wrong. I learned the truth. You probably wouldn't know this since she's not here right now, but I didn't turn my daughter over to them."

"So, you took my parting words to heart. Shame they didn't take effect until after you thought you killed your first mate."

"I want to show you something." Bennet took off his shirt and pointed at a red wound on his left side, just under his heart. "I'm sure if you touched it far enough, you can still feel steel. That must have been about where I shot you, or you wouldn't be alive."

"That's a secret I'm gonna take to my grave, 'cause I know it's gonna haunt ya."

"I don't need to know. I thought things might be alright when you became invisible. Didn't think you could hold onto your powers if you were dying. The point is, I've been kicked out too. But ever since then, instead of hiding like you, I've been trying to bring the Company down, to destroy it. That way they won't harm anyone again, not my daughter, not that little Japanese girl. What do you say? You wanna join the good fight?"

"Sorry, I'm better at the disappearing act."

"You still don't trust me, do you?"

"Well, why should I? What proof do you have, besides a hole in your chest?"

"I have proof that Franklin took over for Thompson. Two from the 150 are already in the belly of the beast, and you got to be sure that he's going to start up Operation: Northpoint any time now. You remember that don't you?"

"What happen to Thompson? He step down?"

"No, I shot him in the head."

"You, you what?"

"I shot him in the head."

"Again! Say that again!"

"I shot Thompson in the head."

"By George." He looked Bennet in the eyes, and said excitedly, "You have changed!"

"My other assistant is gone on a mission of his own. How about it, partner?"

Outside, Hiro was sitting on the couch with Hanami. "I know you said you need to do something before you can come back home. You must understand, Hanami. Everyone is so sad. Your parents are sad. Your grandfather is sad. I was sad. I cried for many days because I did not know if you were ok. Now I am happy because you are well and safe, but everyone else is still sad."

"If you knew you were going to be sad, why did you send me down here?"

"I don't know. It must be something important. Hanami, what can I do to help you?"

"Help Gabriel."

"How does that help you?"

"He's going to find out what the Circle is. Don't worry about me. I'm going to be with Mr. Bennet. I don't know him, but you say he's very nice, very strong, and he won't let anybody hurt me. But Gabriel is all alone, and he has a long way to go."

"I still don't understand how we can be talking so well."

"Because you told me what to say."

"Where is Gabriel?"

Just then, the door to the office opened. Bennet looked over at them. "If anybody asks, I'm going to pay a visit to a neighbor of mine, one of Claire's classmate's parents. I won't be long."

"OK."

Bennet walked on, but suddenly Hiro felt a hand on his shoulder. "Destiny, eh?" he heard the oni say. Then he heard a suppressed chuckle and the hand was removed.

"Mr. Rains is funny." Hanami said in a flat tone.

"You know him?" Hiro said.

"Hai. You introduced me."

"I did? I thought he's an oni."

"Even No Face has a good heart, Uncle Hiro."

* * *

The bus passengers had half an hour to get lunch, stretch their legs, go to the bathroom, and whatever else. The bus had to refuel. Gabriel had a good lunch, bought a sudoku puzzle book, and made it back to his seat right when the bus was reloading. Gavin was right behind him. Gabriel sat down and started working on a puzzle.

"Excuse me young man, is this seat taken?" Gabriel looked up and saw a man standing there with rather large eyes, a white beard, and a big nose, but not an unpleasant smile. He was dressed in a suit and wore a derby, so he looked like quite a businessman. There was a hint of a British accent in his voice. Gabriel still felt rather uncomfortable, but he knew the neighborly thing to say was,

"Non, go ahead."

The man sat down. "Merci beaucoup," he said quietly.

That sounded perfect. "Parlez-vous francais?"

"Excuse me?"

"Did you say something in French just now?"

"Gabriel, I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know me?"

"Oh yes, I do know you. Actually, that is to say, I know your father. I tried to do him a favor some time ago, and I am sad to say I failed him. And in failing him, I failed you."

"Well, I forgive you on his behalf."

"I appreciate that. So Gabriel, tell me, what do you want to do with your life?"

"I want to win the Nobel."

"Ah, very ambitious, very noble calling, if I must say so. But are you so sure that you are going to get there?"

"Of course I am. If I want it badly enough, I can do it."

"Let me tell you something about that, young man. Last year, I wanted something very badly. I wanted to change the world forever. But at the last minute, everything fell apart, and the world is no different than it was yesterday. What if something like that happened?"

Gavin was watching them with a smile on his face. He was finally able to conjure a celebrity, the most interesting obit in his whole collection, but he never would have guess that he would have connections to this stranger.

* * *

Bennet knocked on a door. A woman answered. "Mrs. Wright. I'm Noah Bennet, Claire's father. I was wondering if I could have a word with your son."

"Oh, he's not here."

"He should be. It's after school, and he is no extra-curricular activities."

"He's at a conference in Las Vegas. It's for his job at the paper factory."

"How long has he been gone?"

"Since this morning. Young Irish lady came to pick him up."

"Don't you think that's a bit strange? He was just hired, and he's sent to conference at the last minute."

"No, it makes sense to me. He must be a very good employee. It's a very big honor."

"Alright, thank you. Sorry to take your time. Have a good evening."

He started walking off the porch, and he heard Claude's stride following his. "Well?"

"He's not in his room. Creepy kid, though. Haven't seen more reference of death in one place, not even in a cemetery."

"Yeah, Claire says he's pretty creepy. Something's not right. Even when I joined the Company, they didn't sent me to a conference for over a year."

"You think he's already been shipped off?"

"It's very possible. At least we know where."

"You trust them not to lie about the location?"

"I guess it's possible, but that's his mother. Think she's something of a worrywart under normal circumstances."

"Yes, but these aren't normal circumstan–AHHH!" Claude suddenly appeared crumpled at Bennet's feet, cradling a bleeding nose.

Peter suddenly appeared next to Bennet. "That's for letting them all get away. You stink as a baby sitter!"

"Hello to you to, Pete," Claude managed to say. "Nice to see ya . . . in–"

"You make that 'in one piece' joke one more time, and I'll . . . I'll kick you in the gut!"

"Fine! You're obviously a product of New York."

"What are doing here, Peter?" Bennet said.

"Looking for him, or more accurately the people he was supposed to be watching."

"Well, didn't you remember's Ghandi's little talk?" Claude spoke up. "The kids wanted to see it."

"You could have left a note, or at least turned off the TV."

"You can blame your Japanese friend for that."

"We can use your help, Peter," Bennet said. He pulled out a picture of Gavin. "We think this kid is somewhere in Las Vegas. Try to find him for us."

"What about–?"

"The others are fine, as far as we can tell. The Japanese girl is with us, but the other two have run off. Gabriel is evidently gone to Vegas as well. We don't know what happened to his father, but the Haitian knows."

"Thanks, Noah."

"What?" Claude cried. He stood up and looked at Peter. "How'd you get on a first-name basis? You know what I think of him!"

"Yeah, which makes me wonder why you're here."

"Claude used to be my partner," Bennet explained.

"Wha–really?"

"It was a long time ago," Claude muttered.

"Yeah, but I thought you were running from them."

"I was. Listen, it's a long story."

"Yeah, and you got places to go," Bennet said. "This boy's name is Gavin. If you find out that he or Gabriel are in some kind of autism research facility, get them out immediately, and call me as soon as you can."

"Alright. I think I'll take the long way this time."

"Renting a car?"

"Not quite." He leapt and flew in the air.

"So now what?" Claude said.

"There's a girl–"

"Now we're talking!"

* * *

Mohinder–"Every hero is called on a quest, to save others, and perhaps to seek answers."

The bus pulled into the station. "Well, it was nice talking to you, young man," the stranger said. "Godspeed to you."

"Oui, merci monsieur," Gabriel said halfheartedly. He had never heard anybody challenge his desire before. He felt rather disillusioned. Still, it wasn't entirely an unpleasant conversation. There was something about the old man that intrigued him. He was very mysterious.

Gavin followed Gabriel off the bus. He also felt disillusioned, but he remembered he had a job to do.

Mohinder–"The quest may take us to unexpected places."

Hiro gave Hanami one last hug then closed his eyes and tried to picture Las Vegas. He felt a change. Without thinking, he threw his hands over his head. "YATTA! HELLO LAS–" But then he looked around properly and saw himself in the middle of a desert. "Vegas?" Just then, he saw a large dust cloud heading in his direction. Hiro quickly drew his sword.

Mohinder–"But perhaps it is most unexpected when all our quests lead to the same place."

Gabriel was walking through Las Vegas, trying to get to Micah's home, and he looked up at one marque. "That's it. That's the Corinthian Casino." Gabriel pulled out the scrap of paper in his pocket and looked up at the building. "Well, I'll be back here soon."

He didn't notice a car pull up to the parking lot adjacent to the casino. Michael Bonhomme and the Haitian stepped out. "What's up there?" Michael asked.

The Haitian stared up at the highest floor and said, "The answer."

To be continued . . .


	14. The Relic

Chapter 14: The Relic

Michael Bonhomme--Las Vegas

A car pulled up to the parking lot adjacent to the casino. Michael Bonhomme and the Haitian stepped out. "What's up there?" Michael asked.

The Haitian stared up at the highest floor and said, "The answer."

"What do you mean?"

The Haitian pointed up toward the penthouse. "In the records office of that casino, there is a file on you. It should explain why you were sent there and who sent you."

"Why would it be there?"

"Because one of the men who founded the program used to work there."

"Can I ask him?"

"He is deceased."

"Oh."

"The records office is very secure. Of course, guests aren't allowed up there. You'll have to use your ability to sneak in. I cannot come with you."

"Yes, I know. Merci." Michael took a few steps toward the casino and stared up at it, trying to think of a way.

* * *

Gabriel Bonhomme--Las Vegas

He found Micah's house again, but he was quite surprised when he knocked that a complete stranger answered the door. "Is this the Sanders' house?"

"Um, yeah, it is. What can I do for you?"

"I suppose you are Monsieur Sanders?"

"Actually, it's Hawkins, but you can call me DL."

"I don't understand. If Micah's last name is Sanders, how can yours be Hawkins?"

"It's . . . complicated. You here to see Micah?"

"Oui. Is he at school?"

"No, it's Saturday. He's in his room."

"Where is Madame Sanders?"

"She had a job. Well, come on in." He led him into Micah's room. The boy was sitting at his computer.

"Oh, hi Gabriel. What's up?"

"Uh, the ceiling?"

Micah laughed. "Right. What's going on?"

"I'm not sure why, but I need your help. I have to go to the Corinthian Casino and get this." He pulled out the scrap of paper and handed it to Micah. "Do you have any idea what that is?"

"Looks like a serial number."

"Oui, but what is it for?"

"Well, I won't know until I look in the system. We got a bit of a problem with that. They're not going to let me in."

"Why not?"

"Because you have to be 21 to go into the casino. I've been in a few times with my mom, but she was on special business."

"I'm 17, and I got in fine last time."

"That's true. Did you get carded?"

"Carded? What does that mean, turned into a card?"

"No," Micah said with a chuckle. "Did they ask you to show identification?"

"Oui. I showed them this." He pulled out his student ID card.

"Well, you do look older in this picture. Maybe it's the tie. And maybe since it's a college ID, they thought you were older than you are. I guess you got lucky."

"So what do we do?"

"I got an idea. Someone owes me big time for a job, and I think she can help." Micah went into the other room. Gabriel followed and watched him. Then Micah did something really weird. He picked up the phone, but he didn't dial. He put his hand over the keypad and closed his eyes for a minute. Then he put the phone up to his ear. "Hello, Candace? This is Micah. I'm calling in a favor."

* * *

Gavin Wright--Las Vegas

Gavin was outside the house, hiding in the bushes, staring into the windows. He still had no clue what Gabriel was up to. His friend on the bus really didn't do much else other than mess with Gabriel's head. It could hinder him, but he wasn't sure how he could find what he needed to. Maybe he ought to locate that woman that Allison mentioned. She could help.

As he was in thought, he didn't notice a Mustang pulling up to the house. Nikki was heading for the front door, but then she spotted Gavin. "Hey you!" She confronted him. "What are you doing, you peeping Tom?"

Oh, she needed to be scared off! What could he use? Mother? Grandmother? No--sister! Perfect! He stared at her but . . . she just stared back. Where is the sister? Why isn't she running away?

The woman said, in a somewhat deeper voice, "What do you want, Gavin?"

"Huh? Where did the sister go?"

"Oh, she's still here."

Gavin looked around, wondering if he missed something. "I don't see her. Did you scare her away?"

"I used to, but she doesn't run anymore. Let's just say that Nikki and I are rather close." Gavin still felt very confused, but then she grabbed his shirt and lifted him up. "Now, I happen to agree with her that you're just a peeping Tom, so you're better spit out what you want with me or get out of our sight!"

"I'm not a peeping Tom! I have a mission! I have to find Jessica Sanders!"

"Well, you found her."

"Can you help me? I was sent to spy on that boy in there!" He pointed to the window.

"That boy is our son!"

"Not him! No, the other boy! Gabriel!"

The sister looked into the window. "The French boy is back? Well, this could be amusing. What do you want from him?"

"I need to know what he's doing. He has a strange power. He can glow a bright blue. We have to find out why!"

She let him down. "Well, you're not going to get it staring at him in the bushes. Let a pro show you how it's done." She smiled mischievously and walked away. She went in, and Gavin watched. "I'm home, Honey!"

"Nikki!" DL met her and gave her a kiss. "You're home earlier than I expected."

"Yeah. Things just went my way, I guess. Where's my little genius?" She walked back to Micah's room.

"Mom!" Micah cried as he gave her a hug.

"Bonsieur, Madame Sanders," Gabriel greeted.

"Oh, hi Gabriel! Where's Hiro?"

"He, uh, had business in Japan that he had to take care of. By the way, merci for the money. It really provided for me."

"It's no problem. Thank you for your help. I hear you and Hiro really kept the crowd entertained. I wish I could have seen it." Gabriel laughed a little.

A few minutes later, she got everybody in the kitchen for cookies. Then she asked Gabriel. "So, what brings you here?"

"Gabriel's got to pick up something at the Corinthian Casino," Micah explained. "Don't worry, Mom, I got it covered."

"But there is something you could help me with, Madame," Gabriel spoke up.

"Yeah?"

"Could you perhaps drive me to Reno?"

She laughed. "What's this, going on a tour of the major cities in Vegas?"

"Non, madame. I have to find a reservation north of Reno, and I am about out of travel money."

"Reno's a long drive," DL said, "and gas prices these days . . ."

"But I have to get there! I can't drive, and I don't have enough money for bus fare. Besides, the bus doesn't go where I need to go. So either I got to get someone to drive me there, walk, or find a three-wheeled bicycle."

"Isn't that technically a tricycle?" Micah said.

"S'il vous plait, Micah, call it a bike. It's humiliating enough that I can't drive. Don't remind me that my vehicle of choice is something only little children drive."

"You know what?" DL spoke up. "I think I've seen one of those at a local bike shop. It looks pretty useful. It's got a big basket in the back that you can pack all sorts of gear in."

"Oui, it is useful. Do you think they'll rent that bike?"

DL chuckled. "No, I don't think so."

"Well, what am I going to do? I got the one I have at home using my inheritance. I don't have enough to buy another one!"

"Relax, Gabe," Micah said. "When we get to the casino, I'll get you that money."

"Gambling?"

"Let's just say I got a system," Micah answered with a wink.

"So what else are you going to do at the casino?" Nikki asked candidly. "Maybe go see a magic show, maybe the Blue Man Group?" She smiled slyly.

Gabriel gave her an odd look. "Aren't they mimes? I don't like mimes. I see too many at home."

"I don't think they're even playing there," Micah said. "I think they're on tour."

"Oh. Oh! I forgot. Sorry, I must have got confused. So, what is it you and Micah are getting?"

"We don't know," Micah answered.

"All I know is it's something that belongs to me, something that I have a right to."

"Oh." She nodded.

Once they all left, she snuck out and told Gavin what she discovered. Gavin in turn called Franklin and told him everything. Franklin put him on hold for a while, then came back on. "Well, we do have on file that what Gabriel said was true. He does have something there that belonged to one of his ancestors, a rather mysterious piece. This curator had a habit of collecting numerous artifacts that he thought were significant or powerful. I once told him he could rival Ripley." He chuckled.

"I'm sorry, I don't get it."

"You know, 'Ripley's Believe it or Not'?"

"Oh. That's clever. So what do you want me to do? Since it really does belong to him, legally we can't–"

"That's true, legally no, but we're often above the law. I want to do all that you can to keep the boy from getting that artifact. It would be better if it were in our possession so that we can analyze it."

"Analyze it? Why?"

"Like I said, it's a very curious piece. The curator believe there was more to it than meets the eye. I want to see for myself if that's true."

* * *

Peter Petrelli–Las Vegas

Peter was sitting on the roof of a high-rise hotel. He was thinking about the boy that Noah told him to rescue, and he decided to try to draw a few more pictures by the glow of the neon lights to get a few more clues. He was so deep in a trance, though that he couldn't see the glow of the neon lights. The picture was very involved. He was pressing hard, making the colors vibrant, getting Writer's Cramp. Once the trance lifted, he looked at the picture. "Oh no! This is terrible! I-I-I, I got to find him!" He tucked the paper away and hurriedly got down from the roof.

* * *

Early in the evening, Micah and Gabriel were dropped off near the casino. "She said she'd meet us here–oh, there she is!" A tall woman with dark hair starting walking toward them. "What took you so long?"

"Well, it takes a while to drive here from–" The woman stopped in her tracks when her eyes rested on Gabriel. "Aren't you the French boy?"

"Uh . . ." Gabriel gaped at her. How did she know about him?"

"Oh. Never mind. Maybe I confused you with someone else. Well then, let's go play. Micah?" She reached her hand for Micah and as he took it he suddenly became a young man of 21.

"Whoa. That's like what my Papa can do."

"Your Papa?" Micah said in a deeper voice. "I thought you said he was dead."

"Well, I thought he was. I need to tell you all about it."

"I suppose you already got an ID?" Candace said. "OK, good. Do you want to change too?"

"Non, merci, I'm good."

"Then let's go. Let's get this over with." They started walking toward the entrance, but just before they stepped into the door, a quarter rolled on the ground and settled at Candace's feet. She picked it up. "Wow, a quarter right in front the entrance of a casino. Nothing can be luckier than that." She grinned at Micah.

"Forget it. I'm not helping you. Remember, this is your payback for me."

"Fine! But I'm keeping this."

"No. Give it to Gabe."

"What for?" Gabriel asked.

Micah whispered in his ear. "I told you. I'm going to help you get money for that bike. Just follow me."

They got past security, and then Micah dismissed Candace. He led Gabriel over to a slot machine, and then he pulled out a pillow case. "What's that for?" Gabriel asked.

"The bike costs $350. That's a lot of quarters. This is the best way I could think of to carry them all."

"Wait a minute, you're saying–?"

"Shh!" Micah put his hand on the machine. "Excellent. There's over a thousand dollars in here." Micah laughed. "Isn't it funny how much people play on these things that there would be that much? In quarters? Speaking of which, you still have yours, right?"

"Ah, oui." As he pulled it out of his pocket, he had this really funny feeling. Something in his conscience was telling him something wasn't right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "Micah, is this stealing?"

"No. Look around. Everything's taking money for nothing. Actually, they say it's really good for the economy."

"Is this gambling?"

"No. In gambling, you have to take a chance, but I'm guaranteeing you that you are going to get the money you need."

"Is this . . . cheating?"

"No. Actually, we're the only ones playing by the rules. It's just that no one else knows it."

"Is this–?"

"Gabe, I can't do anything until you put that quarter in, so quit asking questions."

Gabriel sighed and put the coin in the slot.

"So?"

"Go on! Pull the lever!"

"You didn't say anything about a lever!" Gabriel said in frustration as he yanked it.

Micah just put his hand in the machine. Gabriel watched as the first roller stopped on a picture of a 7. Then the next one also stopped on a 7. The last one took a while, but it finally also came to a sudden stop at a 7. The machine suddenly blinked lights and made all kinds of noise, which startled Gabriel. He covered his ears.

"Gabe, hold open the pillowcase!"

Gabriel noticed that quarters were just spilling out of the machine. Gabriel didn't want to uncover his ears, but he also thought it would be wise to stop the flow. It was really tough. He and Micah worked together to clean up what they didn't get into the case.

"That should be $375. That'll cover tax and other expenses you might need. You want me to take it over there to get it wrapped into rolls? It'll make things easier on the bike clerk."

"Uh, d'accord. So, I am curious. You say we were the only ones playing by the rules. What are the rules?"

"Oh, I just explained to it the situation and asked it nicely if it would mind helping us out. Most people don't know that machines can be quite cooperative if you're polite."

"D'ac . . . cord." Gabriel was sure that was the strangest thing he ever heard.

* * *

Meanwhile, Gavin was coming in, but the bouncers stopped him. "Hey kid, you got ID?"

"Um . . ." Gavin padded himself down, just to buy time. "No, not on me."

"Sorry kid, but we can't let you in unless you're 21."

"Oh really? You won't bend your rules for me, and yet you let that dog in?"

"Dog?"

"It's probably just a seeing-eye dog," the other guard whispered.

"I don't remember letting anybody in that was blind." The other guard turned around and saw a German Shepherd sitting behind him. "Shotgun? I don't believe it!" The dog barked happily at him. The guard went over to pet it. The other guard followed. Gavin smiled and snuck past them. Dead pet, never fails.

* * *

"Alright, I got Dad to take the quarters. I think we're ready to go to the museum," Micah told Gabriel.

"But Monsieur Hawkins didn't come with us."

"Oh, he just popped in. Let's go get Candace."

They did, and they started heading up the stairs.

"You know, every other person in this casino would use the elevator! That's what they're there for!" Candace yelled at them in a complaining tone.

"Well, we thought this would be less conspicuous," Micah said.

"And we could use the exercise," Gabriel added, though he thought, "As long as I don't trip and make a fool of myself."

Keeping a shadow's distance was tough up the stairs was difficult for Gavin. He just tried to stay a flight or two behind.

Candace went into the museum first. Gabriel watched as she talked to the curator. He didn't know what she was doing, but he saw them walk to the back.

"We're clear," he whispered to Micah. They slipped in, not knowing that Gavin was following from a shadow's distance.

"So what's the information?" Micah asked.

"Right here." Gabriel handed him the slip of paper. "So how do you–?"

"Over here!" Micah ran over to a computer. He placed his hand on the screen and closed his eyes.

"What are you–?"

"Shh!" Micah hissed. After about a minute, he said, "Got it!" A drawer in a storage cabinet opened up automatically.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. I just know it's up there."

"OK, then. On y va." (Let's go.)

Gabriel pulled a step ladder up to the drawer and started going up.

"What are you doing?"a voice said below him. Gabriel looked down and was very surprised to see the same man, that old guy from the bus.

Micah's eyes just about popped out of his head. "Mr. Linderman?"

"Micah," the man said with a genial nod.

"How did he recognize him?" Gabriel wondered, but he asked aloud, "Linderman? There was a plaque outside that said 'The William Linderman Memorial Art Wing.' Are you related to him?"

"I suppose you could say that."

"Why didn't you say something?"

The man shrugged. "You never asked. At any rate, I'll thank you not to steal from my collection."

"Oh, but it's mine! I was told, it's mine by right. The mother of Congressman Nathan Petrelli has papers documenting that it belongs to me!"

"Nathan Petrelli," Micah repeated. "Wasn't that the guy I helped you rig the election to win?"

The man laughed. "Very well. Gabriel, if that's the case, it's all yours."

"What?" Micah heard a sharp whisper. The boy looked toward the sound but couldn't see anything.

"Oh, I'm not going to argue with a family heirloom," the man continued. "By all means Gabriel, take it."

And then he winked toward the right. Micah was the only one who caught it, and he started running toward the direction where Linderman was winking.

"Micah, where are you going?" Gabriel called after him.

"Oh, he's served his purpose already, hasn't he?" the man replied. "You have other business to attend to." He smiled mysteriously and gestured to the open drawer.

Gabriel walked up the ladder and picked up the artifact in the drawer. He looked at it with disappointment. "It's a . . . cane?"

"Bit big for that, wouldn't you say? Take a closer look. Perhaps you've seen it before, maybe in Christmas pageants, illustrations of the twenty-third Psalm. Have you nursery rhyme books in France? Because perhaps you've seen this in pictures of Little Bo Peep."

"It's a shepherd's cane."

"Staff, or rod, or perhaps hook if you prefer, not cane. Tell me, Gabriel, are you a shepherd?"

"Non, monsieur."

"Do you ever plan on being a shepherd?"

"Non, monsieur."

"Then that really doesn't serve any use for you, does it?"

"Is it special?"

"It's just a hunk of hazel wood! Trust me boy, you're better off leaving it here with me, letting it appreciate in whatever little value it has, then carrying around that bulky, heavy thing."

Gabriel put the bottom end down on the floor so that it stood at its full length. It was as tall as himself. It looked black, or a very dark brown. The top was very widely curved. It was smooth, as if it had been polished well, and it was indeed very heavy. So the guy's argument, whoever he was, made a lot of sense. He almost put it back when–

"Don't listen to him, Gabey!"

Gabriel looked down and saw a beautiful woman looking up at him with concern on her face. He had only seen her in pictures, but he knew. There was only one person who called him "Gabey."

"Mama? You're alive too?"

Meanwhile, Micah found Gavin watching them from the hallway. "What are you doing? Are you making that happen?"

"I get it started," Gavin answered. "Then they take on a mind of their own."

"Well, make it stop!"

Gavin instead stared at him, but no one was coming to him. He kept thinking of his aunt, but since she was already in a body, she couldn't come. No pets or anything. "Has no one died in your life?"

Micah looked at Gavin in shock.

Gabriel started running down the ladder. "No Gabey, be careful. Just listen to me."

"Why should you?" the man chuckled. "She can't possibly be your real mother."

The woman glared at him. "And why is that?"

The man shrugged rather coolly. "Oh, you know."

She looked back at Gabriel. "Listen son, that rod is important. You're destined to have it!"

"Destined? Mother–" Gabriel started to say.

"I know, it's strange, but it's true. It may feel awkward, but you will grow stronger with it."

"What can I do with it, Mama?"

"What all shepherds do, Gabriel. Gather your flock."

"My flock? Do you mean the Circle?"

"And it will protect you. Wield it as you would a weapon."

"Will I ever need to?"

"You might. And Gabriel, if you keep it with you, you will see it do marvelous things."

"What can be more marvelous than this?" He finally came down from the ladder and came toward her for a hug. He felt her surround him and heard a whisper in his ear.

"Forgive me, Gabey."

Micah was trying to think, what would make this boy stop? The sprinklers, maybe. The fire alarm definitely would, but that would scare Gabriel. He looked up at a sprinkler head and made it turn on, but it triggered the fire alarm. Gavin and Gabriel both panicked. They all ran out of the casino, holding their ears.

Once outside, Gabriel went around the crowd calling for his Mama, until he ran back into Micah. "I lost him," Micah sighed. "Sorry about the fire alarm. I was trying to keep it from turning on."

"It's alright. What a day, isn't it? Did you see, Micah? First my father, then my mother! She's alive too!"

"Gabe–"

"I need to find her again. Oh, Papa will be so happy to see her! Just think, we'll go back to Paris, and . . . we'll be a family again!"

"Gabe–"

"It's only a shame I never knew her. I may be too old to truly appreciate–"

"Gabe!"

"What is it?"

"I don't think she really is alive."

"Well, of course she is! I saw her! I touched her!"

"Gabriel, there was a boy spying on us. I think he's able to bring dead people back to life or something."

"Well, then she's still alive, isn't she?"

"I don't think so. Have you ever seen 'The Sixth Sense'?"

"Non."

"Well, it's about a boy who sees dead people–"

"I gathered that."

"Yeah, but he said they don't even know that they're dead. That's actually–well, I probably shouldn't say. I think that's what going on here. They're here for a little, and we see them, and then they disappear."

"How do you know? You don't know my mother!"

"You right, I don't, but I know Mr. Linderman. I know he's dead."

Gabriel looked solemn, on the brink of tears. He walked away.

* * *

In the hubbub, Gavin happened to see Candace in the crowd. What was she doing here? Never mind, it was time to find out if what Ren said was true. He confronted her. "Betty, we need to talk."

"Betty?" She laughed nervously. "You're mistaking me for someone else. It's me, Gav, Candy."

"I had a talk with your old friend, the one you said I reminded you of. He told me that wasn't your name."

She frowned but then talked to him in a softer voice. "OK, you busted me. My name is Betty, but I've left that old life behind. I started fresh, new name, new life."

"So what Ren said WAS true. Tell me this. He told me--well, he implied--that you killed him!"

"It was an accident. My powers were still new. I used them to literally scare a football player to death. Everybody blamed Ren, and he was roughed up. I tried to explain, and . . . well, without meaning to, the same thing happened." She chuckled. "You should have seen what I did to the high school after that. I put 'Carrie' to shame!" Then she saw Gavin's offended look. She touched his arm and smiled at him. "But you know I'll never do that to you, Gav. We're friends."

But Gavin looked up at her and started touching her face, feeling her nose, her cheekbones, and her lip.

"What are you doing? I thought you said you didn't like to get close."

He backed away. "He was right. You are one of them!"

"No! I'm still the same girl underneath all this. Gav, you know it's true."

"You lied to me!"

"What if I did? You don't the right to know the whole truth!"

"You're just everyone else. In fact, you're worse. You just pretend to be my friend, then you lie, and you're not! Mr. Bennet was right, this isn't where I belong!" He turned away and started to run.

"Gav!" Very briefly she turned into her true form. "Gav, it's me!"

He turned back, but he was so far away he could barely see her. "I'm going to him!" he shouted at her. Then he resumed running away.

Candace covered her face and transformed back.

* * *

Peter looked everywhere for the kid, and he finally found a boy that was running alone. Peter stepped in front of him. "Are you Gavin?"

"Great, this isn't what I needed," Gavin thought. "Who does he know? Girlfriend! Excellent!"

"What could that mean?" Peter thought.

"Peter?" The voice made him turn around. Peter couldn't believe his eyes.

"Simone?"

"Peter!" She ran to him and hugged him, crying. "Oh, Peter, don't let go. Don't let go. I can't tell you how much I miss you, how much I love you."

"This isn't possible. You can't be here!"

"Don't think about it, Peter. Please."

Something was definitely missing. He held her closer, and he could immediately tell. "You don't have a heartbeat."

"Peter, please, don't say it!"

"I'm sorry, Simone, but this can't be. Isaac shot you! You're dead!"

She looked up at him with large, frightened eyes, and she vanished right before him. He looked again at Gavin. "That's your power, isn't it? Bringing the dead back to life? No, it's like the Resurrection Stone in Harry Potter. They're only shadows of what they were, incomplete imperfections. That must be a horrible burden!"

"He looks familiar." the boy thought. "Where have I seen him before? Could it be him?"

So, the kid recognizes him. Good. Peter reached out his hand to him. "My name's Peter."

The boy shook his head and turned around to run.

"Gavin, wait!" Peter grabbed his arm. "You have to come with me. Something terrible's going to happen."

"I know," Gavin thought.

"You know? Wait, you want it to happen? Gavin, don't! It hurts! It hurts a lot, and there's no turning back!"

"I don't care," Gavin said aloud. "It's only going to be for a few minutes. That's better than 17 years."

"Things will get better."

"They never do!" Gavin pulled away and ran.

"You got to stop him, Peter," another voice said beside him.

Peter turned around. "Isaac? What's going on? Did I just–but you can't be d–"

"Don't say it! If we even begin to accept reality, there's no return."

"You mean this power is taboo? Man, that's ironic."

"I know. Just listen to me. I've been in the kid's head. There are others there that want him to do it. They think it will give them some rest."

"Who?"

"The cheerleader, for one."

"Claire?"

"No, the other one. The one you painted."

"Oh, uh . . . Jamie Wilcox?"

"Yeah, her. And let's see, the bomb is another."

"Ted Sprague."

"And there are a lot more. I want to stop him, but I can't. I can't say the words, but you can. I think you can make him listen."

"Why?"

Isaac answered in a dramatic whisper, "Because it happened to you! He'll listen to you if you say the words we can't say."

Peter nodded. "Well, I'll try again."

* * *

It was late at night, and a guy was emptying out the slot machines for inventory. He took the quarters up to a secure room and rolled them. As he was writing down the tally, someone told him that he had a call. He walked out and shut the door.

Just as soon as he walked out, one of the coin rolls exploded. Michael stood on the table. He shook out his shoulders. It was tough being an American coin, and he was lucky that the right people found him. But he couldn't waste time shaking it out. He went to the door, but he found it locked. So he tried something he hadn't done before–he just made his hand change so that it could trip the lock. It worked! He got out as quickly as he could.

* * *

Nikki was doing some work around the house when she had an unexpected visitor. "Hello, Jessica, my dear."

She turned around sharply and saw him smiling deviously at her. She was frightened, but then she felt Jessica take over. "I thought DL put you down."

"Down but not out, I suppose. I don't have long, so I'll be brief. The boy is returning, and you must divulge his secret. And I know you can do more than what you have."

"I don't think he even knows about it. Besides, he's just a boy."

"That hasn't stopped you before, now, has it?"

* * *

Candace turned her car into the Sanders' driveway. Micah had transformed back to his former state. "OK, hate to run so fast, but I got some things to think about, and someone to find." She then drove off.

"I got to get going, too," Micah said. "Dad's getting together that bike, and we're coming back in a little bit to get it to you. Just hang tight here."

"D'accord," Gabriel answered. "Merci, Micah. How will you get there?"

"I got a way, don't worry."

Gabriel nodded and went inside, but at the very instant he stepped a foot over the threshold, he heard shattering glass and felt a sharp pain on his head. His legs gave way, and he passed out.

* * *

Michael found his way back to the Haitian. "I found it," he said, holding up a file.

The Haitian nodded solemnly.

"Well, let see what it says." Michael flipped through it. It mostly seemed like scientific data that Michael couldn't really translate. Then he spotted something a few pages in. "What? 'Patient showing no response to treatment'?! I responded alright. I changed into something I'm not."

"Perhaps it was not the response they were seeking."

"But how could it not be? They took me out of my son's life, and for what?" He looked in the file and saw something that made him so angry, he dropped it. "'Termination recommended'?!? They were so dissatisfied, they were going to kill me?"

* * *

He finally found it, the ranch house. His namesake had to be in there. This late, he'd probably be able to get him in his sleep. That always makes it easier. He started going toward the house.

"You!" He turned and saw the boy that he painted, the one that was surrounded with all those people. "I know it's you this time. We finally meet, Sylar."

Sylar stared at the boy. "How do you know me?"

"Oh, they told me all about you."

"Who?" Then, there they all were, just like in his picture--Isaac Mendez, Eden, Charlie, Chandra Suresh, Zane Gray, Ted Sprague, Dale, that cheerleader who was supposed to be Claire but wasn't, Mr. and Mrs. Walker, Brian Davis, even people he didn't know what their names were. They were all circling around him, staring him down. "How can this be? These . . . these are . . ."

"Say it, Sylar," Eden hissed in his ear.

"We want to hear it come from you," Ted said.

All of them whispered, "Say it," over and over. It freaked him out.

Finally, Sylar put his hands on his head. "These are all my victims. I killed them!" All at once, the people disappeared like smoke, but the boy was still there. "And you. Why did you come here? Is it because of them? Did they want revenge on me?"

"Probably," he answered. "I don't really know. They never tell me what I want them to tell me. But I'm not here because of them. They're here because of me. I saw you that night you killed Jackie. You didn't see me, but I saw you. I saw what you did."

"You're from the same high school aren't you? Then you know Claire Bennet?"

"Yes, I know her. I know her father used to work for the company who found you and captured you, the company I work for now."

"Excellent. You'll do me a great favor if you bring her to me."

"I'll do you one better." He held out his arms open.

Sylar scoffed. What was this? "I don't need a hug."

"This is called a Christ pose! You're probably not familiar with it. Sylar, I am offering myself to you, my life, my powers, my brain."

"Are you serious?"

"I know you, Sylar. You're on the run now. I know you're hungry, you're starving. It's a free lunch. Come and get it."

"Don't do it, Gabriel!" Sylar looked to his side and saw his mother standing next to him. "You know I taught you that there's no such thing! Is this really what you want, to be haunted by all of us until the day you die?"

"I know, but he's right, Mama. I am hungry, so very hungry."

"Gavin, don't do it!" he heard a voice yell. Sylar saw Peter in the distance. He used his telekinesis to try to hold him back, but Peter was fighting

The boy looked at Sylar who was still hesitating. "Take me where I belong!" he shouted.

Sylar took a deep breath and pointed at the boy's head.

* * *

Gabriel opened his eyes, but it wouldn't have made any difference if he left them closed, it was so dark. He moaned a few questioning mutters. He was sitting in a cold, metallic chair. His hands were tied behind him, and his feet were tied. His head still hurt. Suddenly, a bright lamp turned on just above his head so that he alone was illuminated with a brilliant spot, just like in some spy movie during an interrogation scene. Then, out the darkness, he heard footsteps coming toward him and a soft female voice singing:

Frere Jasque,

Frere Jasque,

Dormez-vous?

Dormez-vous?

"Qui est?" (Who is it?) Gabriel asked. But the voice sang on:

Sonnez les matinas,

Sonnez les matinas,

Din dan don!

Din dan don!

Slowly, the person singing came into the light and stared at Gabriel with a mysterious smile. He recognized her at once.

"Madame Sanders?"

"Not quite, honey," she replied rather coldly. Gabriel had the feeling that she wasn't his former hostess. Even though they looked exactly alike, something was off.

"What do you want with me?"

"Oh, I want a lot of things. I mean, come on. You're from France. I've never been. But because of our son--"

"Our son?"

"Don't worry, boy, I wasn't talking about you--I'll forgo all those things. I was ordered to get something rather specific from you. See, there's all this crazy talk that you can glow as bright as a neon sign. They say your color is sky blue. Now, that is something to see."

Gabriel gave her a blank stare.

"You know what I'm talking about?"

"Well, oui, I do, but you have to understand, I don't know how it works."

"You know, I always loved the French language, not so much as my sister. She took German in high school. But I learned some. I know another little French song that I always liked. You want to hear it?"

"Non, merc–"

But she started singing anyway in a whispery voice,

Alouette,

Gentle Alouette,

Alouette,

Je te plumerai.

As she sang the final line, she smiled and started stroking Gabriel's hair. Gabriel felt uncomfortable, but he might have let down a bit of his guard, because he was completely not expecting what came next.

Je te plumerai le tete!

At that moment, the woman grabbed Gabriel's hair and pulled really hard. He screamed so loud.

Je te plumerai le tete!

Another yank, and another scream.

Et le tete!

Et le tete!

Gabriel felt his scalp throb, wondered if he was even bleeding. The woman then opened her fist in front of him, and his own curls fell into his lap.

"That's just the start. I'm sure we can have a lot of fun with the next few verses, especially when we get to the part about the beak." She skimmed her finger over the tip of his nose. "Now, are you going to show me your impression of an overgrown smurf or what?"

"But it only happens when I'm in close contact and early with certain people. I don't know what it means or anything! It just seems like a very strong connection I have with some people."

"I don't want you to talk about it! I want to show me!"

"I don't think I can!"

Alouette,

Gentle alouette . . .

He saw her pull out a switch blade. Oh, this could get bad! He didn't want her to play with him anymore. "M'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZ!"

As he was screaming for help, Gabriel suddenly became a brilliant blue. The woman backed away, stopped singing, and stared at him.

* * *

"Look at this," Michael pointed, "'Recommendation for termination declined by A.P.' Who could that be?"

"I think I may know, but let us keep looking. Perhaps the file will hold an additional clue."

Michael quickly thumbed through the file looking for anything about A.P. He happened to find an address. "Oh, New York. Somehow, I'm not surprised. Could it be–?"

Suddenly, he started glowing green. He saw a ray of blue light coming out of the sky, and he could hear Gabriel screaming in his head. "Gabriel?" he called out. He looked at the Haitian. "Do you hear that?"

The Haitian shook his head.

"My son's in trouble. I must go to him."

"Then go. I'll wait for you."

Michael nodded and ran in the direction of the blue light.

* * *

At the same time, Sylar was still standing there pointing his finger at Gavin's head. Part of him wanted to kill the boy so badly, but part of him was still holding back. Then he saw Gavin glow a bright yellow. Gavin bowed over and covered his ears. Then he made a strange gesture with his arm. It was as if Gavin grabbed some air and pulled it back toward him.

"Now, that's interesting."

* * *

"Gabriel? Gabriel! Calm down. It's me, Madame Sanders."

"Non! Non, don't trick me!"

"I'm not!" She started to cut his binding straps. "Oh, Gabriel, I'm so sorry. She took over. I tried to stop her."

"Who?"

"Jessica."

"That's Jessica?"

She got him free. "Now, listen. You got to get out of here now, before she comes back."

"But I have to stay here for Micah and Monsieur Hawkins! They're bringing the bike to me!"

"Alright. I'll hold her back as long as I can. Now get out of here! Wait in the house!"

Gabriel got out, but then he heard a loud scream outside. He hastily picked up his staff, which he found on the floor and went out to see. "Allo? Allo? Are you ok?" he called out. He saw something in the backyard and moved closer, still calling out. As he approached it, he gasped and stopped in his tracks.

The boy he saw on the bus lay before Gabriel in a pool of blood, the top of his head removed. His eyes were wide with terror and pain, but on his lips was the small trace of a smile. Gabriel stared at him, too frightened to move. "How–?" he gasped.

"Hello, namesake," a voice said coldly in the shadows. Gabriel could see a figure leaning against a tree. He then approached Gabriel, who started backing away. As he came into the light, Gabriel could see clearly that it was Sylar. He looked very pale, but perhaps his skin was off-set from the brilliant blood around his mouth. He came closer to Gabriel, then shuddered, coughed, gagged, and spit out at his feet a slimy red and green substance. Sylar then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Do you know what this is?"

Gabriel didn't, but his voice felt paralyzed. He couldn't answer.

"This is what you so eloquently described as a gift. That's all. Not pretty, is it?"

Gabriel finally found some of his voice. "I don't care how it looks like. You don't know how it feels like. It's terrible at times, but sometimes it's wonderful."

"Well to me, it felt like a peach pit, completely useless. Now, why do you look so frightened? I don't want to hurt you."

"That's a lie. I know that not only do you want to hurt me, you want to kill me!"

"Now, now, now, boy. I think I might make an exception in your case. I like you. I really do. I like how we share names. And I think you can help me better alive. I've been thinking about that glow you keep giving off and how you keep finding people who can do the same. I think you can find them better than I can."

"I'm not going to help a murderer! I'm not going to help someone do what you just did to him!"

"Do you know why I did that to him? Because he asked me to. He wanted me to kill him. I may never understand why. Now, if you help me, I promise you I will never do that to you. If you don't . . . well, why don't we just hear what your mother has to say about this?"

"Ma mere?"

Sylar snapped his fingers, but nothing happened. "What's going on? How do I–?" He waved his hand, but still nothing. "Madame Bonhomme, show yourself!" he demanded, but there was still nothing but silence.

"He was obsessed with death, wasn't he? That's why it's not working. You should have swallowed that peach pit."

"Don't you back talk to me!" Gabriel tried to hit him with the staff, but Sylar used his telekinesis to throw it out of his hand. Sylar smiled coldly and walked closer to Gabriel. "Well, if that how you feel . . ." He pointed at the boy's head.

Suddenly, there was growl behind them. Sylar turned around and saw a huge wolf looking straight at him. The wolf bounded on him, tore his clothes, scratched his face, bit at his throat. Sylar looked like he was trying to fight back with his powers but was losing. He finally got away and ran, while Gabriel thought he glimpsed a large wound in Sylar's abdomen.

Gabriel picked up the staff again and tried to defend himself with it again, but the wolf turned to him and changed. "Are you alright, son?"

"PAPA!" Gabriel ran up to him and hugged him. "I was afraid I lost you again!"

"I got away from you son, I am sorry. I came here to find some information, about why I was sent away, and how I can keep anyone else from going through the same thing. I have to go to New York now to confront the people who sent me. Do you want to come?"

"Sorry, Papa. I have a journey of my own."

"Then bon voyage, my son. We will meet again."

As Michael walked away from the scene, he heard another voice call to him. "Hey Professor, do you realize what just happened?" He turned and saw Peter looking at him. "You became an animal. You said you couldn't before."

"Yes, I was just thinking about that. I was just so angry that someone would threaten my son. I was angry before that, but that was an even greater anger."

"Yeah. Maybe your powers are influenced by your emotions, by your passion. You really wanted freedom when you flew away. Maybe it was when you started to become complacent about the process that it became more difficult."

"Perhaps." He sighed. "I just found out that someone saved my life, someone associated with my four-year nightmare. And all we know about that person is that they live in New York, and their initials are A. P."

"Really?" Peter said precariously.

"I have an idea who this person is, but I want to see them with my own eyes and ask them my questions. Will you come with me?"

"Yes, I'd like that. You just need to understand, I must take care of some business first. That boy was someone I was supposed to watch. I need to find out what happened."

"Boy?"

Michael looked over and for the first time saw Gavin's body. A young lady with dark hair was weeping over him, crying, "Gav, is this what you wanted?"

Michael, overwhelmed, turned away. Peter, however, turned to the side and saw Gavin standing next to him, as if he were alive. "You again?" the boy asked. "Why won't you just let me go?"

"Sorry, kid," Peter answered. "Noah wants some questions answered."

* * *

Gabriel waited inside the Sanders house with the door locked until he saw headlights and heard a car horn. He cautiously got out. He saw a truck which had a blue three-wheeled bicycle in the bed. DL and Micah both came out of the truck and got it out.

"Look what else we got for you," Micah said. They filled the basket in the back of the bike with a huge case of water, some snacks, and a blanket. Gabriel spent a long time trying to figure out where to put his staff. He finally managed to stick it upright in the back.

"We got a light installed for you, but it's probably best you sleep at night when it's cooler," DL said. "You also got a compass and a map. Micah thinks he knows where you're going."

"Yeah," Micah said pointing to the map. "This is the closest reservation north of Reno. It's called Pyramid Lake. Basically, you just wanna follow this border until you get to Reno, and then go north. Probably if you just stick with going northwest, you'll get to it."

"One more thing." DL put on Gabriel's head a cowboy hat.

"This isn't a helmet," Gabriel protested.

"True, but it'll keeper you cooler, in more than one sense of the word."

"Oh, and here's some extra cash for meals and stuff," Micah said handing him a bundle.

"Merci beaucoup, both of you."

"Hey, it's no problem," DL said. "You just be careful out there, and let us know from time to time how things are going."

"Bon voyage, Gabe!" Micah saluted.

Gabriel rode as quickly as he could through Vegas into the unknown wilderness. Somehow, he felt safer outside the city limits, but deep inside he knew he was in more danger than ever.

To be continued . . .


	15. Lessons in Empathy

Chapter 15: Lessons in Empathy

Bennet House–Odessa, Texas

Sandra poured a bowl of cereal and skim milk and set it in front of Hanami. "Here you go, sweetpea," she cooed. Then she turned back to pour a cup of coffee but stopped. "Well, I declare. I was sure the pot was full a moment ago." About a quarter of it was gone.

Hanami giggled.

"What's so funny, honey?"

"I think it's the TV, Mom," Claire replied for her.

"Oh, of course. Now, where did I put–?" She looked around the counter then into the cupboard.

"Morning, Honey," Mr. Bennet said as he came into the room.

"Noah!" She came up and kissed him. Then she gestured to Hanami and whispered, "Your Indian friend is going to take her home today, right?"

"Yeah, Mohinder said he's going to pick her up this afternoon."

"What happened to that Japanese guy who came the other day? I thought he was going to take her."

"Frankly, I thought he was too. There must have been something else that came up."

"Something above family?"

"We can't question how they do things."

"Hey, have you seen my Mr. Muggles mug?"

Hanami giggled again.

"Oh, uh, I think it's in my office. I'm going to go look it. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Honey, there's no need to yell. I'm right here."

"Sorry, I don't know how loud I talk sometimes. I'll be right back."

He walked back to his office and shut the blinds. The door closed behind them, and sure enough there was Claude sipping black coffee from a white mug with Mr. Muggles pictures on it. "You didn't tell me she still breeds those horrible mutts."

"It's her hobby. I'm not going to take from her what such a delight to her."

"Oh, you mean like you took–"

"Never mind that. We don't have a lot of time, Claude, so let's not waste it chatting. I know that Japanese girl can see you."

"Well, you're half right. She's got very refined telekinesis, and she uses it almost like a sonar to find where I am in the room. Then she sees me in her mind's eye."

"No, I think she can actually see you. How else would she be laughing when she saw you drinking from that mug? Knowing you, you probably made a face of disgust."

"I don't know what she was laughing at. It might have been the telly."

"She wasn't looking at the TV. She was looking at you."

"You know what, I was worried she was. I was trying to gesture for her to pipe down, but . . . what's your point?"

"Well, I was watching a piece about autism on the Discovery Channel. It suggested that they are sometimes sensitive to stimuli that other people don't even notice. Now, when you activate that power, she probably sensing something about you that's different. I don't know if I can put it in the correct science mumbo-jumbo, but maybe she can see past it."

"Why? Just because she's autistic? It's a nice theory, but I know something that blows it right out of the water."

"What's that?"

"The French boy! He knows I'm invisible. He's recognized that he's had difficulty with that. But you know what? He doesn't have trouble talking to me. Actually, he may be the first person I've met who prefers me when I'm invisible. He says it's because he doesn't have to look me in the eye."

"Well, there may be something there. Hanami clearly likes you. Do you know why?"

"She knows me somehow. I don't know exactly."

"I think they may all be sensitive to it, and they might be more sensitive the more serious the condition. That's what's going to help us. See, there's a girl who lives in El Paso. Her father's a minister here, and she's severely autistic. Nonverbal, tantrums, the whole bit. I think you ought to go to her. She'll be receptive to you, and if you stay close to her she'll be in your invisibility field, off their radar."

"So you want me to play imaginary friend to another freaky little kid? No thank you!"

"Claude, it's to protect her."

"You know, when you said there was going to be a girl, I thought you meant–"

But just then, Bennet's cellphone rang. "Shh!" He flipped it open. "It's Peter." He pushed the green button. "Yeah?"

Peter's voice sounded weary on the other end. "It's too late for that kid, Gavin."

"What do you mean? What happened?"

A long pause.

"What happened, Peter?" Bennet said sternly.

"Sylar . . . happened."

Bennet sighed in disgust. "Did you do anything to stop it?"

"Do you think I wouldn't? Ever since I drew a picture of the kid spread eagle on the ground with . . . Sylar, I tried everything. I tried talking to him. I tried to fight Sylar off when it was happening."

"Well, why didn't you?"

"Because . . . well, I think he wanted it to happen. The kid, I mean. See, I've been talking to him. He told me that he joined the Company not because of what he could do, but to find Sylar. He hasn't been clear why but–"

"How could he be telling you anything? I thought you just said Sylar killed him!"

"No . . . no, I've been very careful NOT to say that."

"Peter, why are you being so evasive? Is he dead or isn't he?"

"I'm not being evasive. I absorbed the kid's ability, and you'll be surprised how ridiculously taboo it is."

"Oh, I see."

"I thought you would prefer for me to have him here until he answers some questions about the Company and what they're planning to do, sort of like an inside man."

Bennet nodded. "Good work, Peter. Claude and I will do our part. We were just trying to come up with a plan. And you–"

"Actually, it's going to be a while. I'm heading back to New York. I rented a car, and I'm following the Haitian and Professor Bonhomme."

"What are they doing?"

"Looking for someone who supposedly locked him in a nut house for four years. The professor asked for me to come with them. And I think I can help him."

"You can do more help for us."

"No, I disagree."

"Why?"

"Because I'm pretty sure I know who they're looking for. I can try to help him make sense of it where she can't."

"Alright then. We'll see you when you come back." He hung up. "Change of plans. A boy is dead because of what they've done."

"And?" Claude asked.

Bennet gave him a determined glare. "We're taking matters into our own hands."

Claude smiled. "That's what I like to hear!"

* * *

Gabriel Bonhomme–Somewhere in the Nevada Desert

He had riding almost nonstop for about twelve hours, high on the adrenaline triggered by his fear. Now that adrenaline was starting to run out, and his sleep deprivation and the HEAT was slowing him down considerably. He rode on the shoulder on the highway, but now the highway was running out of shoulder and was not going in the direction that he needed to. So he rode out on the wilderness toward the northwest. That made the journey even harder. He found very few places to stop at, but he was really more thirsty than he was hungry. He already went through three bottles of water, not just drinking it but splashing it on his face, neck, and hair. It only cooled him down temporarily. He sure didn't feel right traveling with all the scorpions, snakes, and Gila monsters (whatever they were), and dodging all the cacti.

Where did that one come from?

Gabriel squeezed his breaks at the last second, kicking up a huge dust crowd. Huh? He thought he saw it move. As he finally came to a stop, he could see clearly. Hey, that's not a cactus, that's–

"Hiro?"

The Japanese man slowly lowered his sword. "Gabriel?"

It could be a mirage. Gabriel got off the bike, walked closer to him, and touched his arm. It felt smooth

Hiro broke in a smile and raised his arms triumphantly. "Yatta!"

Well, mirages don't usually scream. Hiro sheathed his sword and hugged Gabriel.

"That's the first time I found someone without knowing where he is!"

"But how'd you get out of jail?"

"Peter got me out, and Hanami told me to find you. She told me you were in Las Vegas!"

"I was, but I got out as quickly as I could. We got a lot to talk about. Like, what is that on your back?"

"Oh, this?" He unsheathed his sword again. "It's a sword, an ancient, holy sword."

"Whoa! C'est tres choette!"

"And what's that?" Hiro said pointing to the staff.

"That's . . . just a hunk of hazelwood."

* * *

Primatech Papers–Odessa, Texas

Candace, still wiping away her tears, looked over at the woman across from her in the elevator.

"What's your problem?"

That's not the snide remark she expected. "Gavin. I was to work with him, and now he's–"

"Oh, I know. Franklin sent me over to tell his mum what happened."

"He did? Why didn't he send me?"

"Because you are too emotionally involved. We're trying to keep his mum from suing us, or at least from finding out the truth."

"But why aren't you upset? You worked with him too."

"What's the big deal? He's in Tuatha de Danaan now."

"Say huh?"

The woman scoffed. "It's what you call Paradise."

"I don't know. He was a pretty bad boy. He could have been worse, though." What made her feel the worst was thinking that she should have figured it out. He told her he wanted the people he interacted with to tell him everything, and there was only one way to find out what they knew. Thompson told her it should have been obvious. It should have been obvious. He wanted to die.

That woman was staring at her. "What's your problem?" Candace sneered this time.

"I don't like your hair color. It looks unnatural."

"For your information, I haven't dyed my hair since high sch–ahh!" Suddenly, her hair was long, wavy, and a natural black.

"That's better," the woman said with a smile. The elevator dinged and let them off.

"Hey, how'd you do that? I'm the only one who's supposed to have control over how I look."

"Well, it must cancel out around me, because people do what I want." She opened the door to the big office. Franklin was sitting in his chair, and he didn't look happy.

"Well, Allison, how did she take it?"

"Of course, she was upset, but I think I eased her enough that she won't sue us."

"That's something anyway. Now ladies," he leaned over and said very slowly and clearly, "this was not supposed to happen! Remember, Gavin came to us. He was willing. You both know that this is rare, that most people we work with would, if we allowed them, come in kicking and screaming. I put you both in charge of him, and Candace I specifically told you to warm him back up to us when we sensed that he had doubt."

"Are you saying that it's our fault that he died?" Allison said.

"Sir, I don't think we could have stopped it," Candace spoke up. "I think he was suicidal."

"Do you remember what I told you about him?"

"You . . . you said he was 1 in 150. I thought it was a rather cryptic comment to make. Is that some sort of magic number?"

"He was a very special case. I thought you would be wiser than to let him slip through your fingers, suicidal or no."

"Well, 150 is not a huge number. We can find another, can't we?"

"We're in luck. We have at least four chances to get another to study. But we've been too slow and too nice. It's time we bump it up a notch. We need to bring them in kicking and screaming."

* * *

Michael Bonhomme–Somewhere in New York City

The car pulled up to a rather big mansion. "This is the address," the Haitian said flatly

"You didn't even look at the folder," Michael said, "not even to ask for directions."

"I did not need to."

"You knew all along?"

The Haitian nodded.

"Then why did we go to Vegas to get this file?"

"It was for your benefit, not mine. You needed to see the information first."

"Why?"

"You need to understand. What happened to you was wrong. I agree with you about that with all my heart. But the reasons behind it may have been motivated by love."

"Love? How can that be?"

"I will wait for you in Central Park. Good luck."

"Thank you, sir." Michael got out of the car, and the Haitian drove up. He knew Peter was around somewhere; Michael saw him in the car behind them in his rearview mirror. He felt he had the courage to do this. He walked up to the and knocked with the doorknocker. Then he collapsed on the welcome mat.

He felt himself be picked up and carried into the house. He felt vibrations in the air suggesting that the person holding him was speaking, but he couldn't hear what that person was saying nor could he see the person because he had no eyes or ears. He became a rose.

And somehow, that did make him feel a little weak. He felt hungry and thirsty. Eventually, he sensed light and felt cool water run through him like blood, but he needed that to soak in before he had the strength to change again.

* * *

Hiro and Gabriel sat on the ground and explained a little bit more about what had happened to each other since they last saw each other. When Hiro heard where Gabriel got his staff, he got excited and described how he and Ando got his sword.

"It's not fair," Gabriel grumbled as he pulled out the staff from the basket on the back of his bike. "What you got was cool. Mine's heavy and awkward. I feel weak and clumsy holding it. Worst of all, I still don't know what I'm supposed to do with it, how it's supposed to be special to me."

"My father used to tell me a story about a shepherd," Hiro said.

"What, 'The Boy who Cried "Wolf"'?"

"No."

"Then . . . was it the story about David killing Goliath?"

"Well, it was like that a little. It was the story about Takezo the Sword Saint and a shepherd boy."

"I don't think I've heard of him."

"Oh, he was my favorite hero growing up! I loved every story about him. This one goes like this. The Sword Saint was on a quest to defeat the evil war chief Whitebeard who was advancing through small farm villages and killing all the people who lived there. The Sword Saint went alone in hopes to protect the innocent villagers.

"On the way, he came upon a wide-eyed shepherd boy who was all alone. 'Turn back to your home, boy, for you are in danger,' the Sword Saint told him.

"'No,' said the boy, 'not until I find my father's favorite sheep. We lost her in the night, and I must find her for she is under my care, and father will surely punish me if I come home empty.'

"So the Sword Saint said, 'If you must stay out in the open, then you must fight.'

"But the shepherd protested, 'But I cannot fight. That is why I am merely a shepherd. All my brothers are in the army, but I am not strong enough.'

"So the Sword Saint answered, 'Then I will teach you.'

"And the Sword Saint showed the boy fighting techniques with his sword. The boy mimicked them with his rod. Yet he was clumsy and slow. He kept dropping his rod. The Sword Saint finally carved into the rod a holy symbol. 'It will draw in your chi and the chi of those around you to make you strong.' Still, the Sword Saint worried that the boy would die.

"When the Sword Saint returned from his quest and prepared to face Whitebeard, he found the war chief's number one officer on the ground, still alive, but beaten so severely that he could no longer fight. It was the shepherd who fought him, but the Sword Saint learned that it was not because of the magic symbol of his rod. He fought with great anger because he learned that he stole the sheep for Whitebeard and roasted it for his dinner. Therefore, the Sword Saint took the man prisoner, but that is another tale.

"I think when my father told me that story, he wanted me to think that I was the shepherd. The lesson it teaches us is that we can never underestimate the power of the humble and the weak, for they may help us in the time of our greatest need. But I see a good lesson in what the Sword Saint did, too. He gave such a boy a chance and esteemed him when he succeeded."

"It's a nice story, but what do you think that has to do with this? I mean, that's all it is, right? It's like a Japanese fairy tale."

"NO! It was true! The Sword Saint was real!"

"How could he be real? Cette impossible!"

"I met him! I accidently traveled through time, back centuries and centuries, and I met him! I was taught how to battle by the Sword Saint himself, and I aided him in the Great War! I admit, I never met the shepherd, but since I know the Sword Saint, I do not doubt a word of this. He did edify and protect the humble."

Gabriel shook his head. "I'm sorry, Hiro, but it just sounds too incredible."

"Look closer at this if you do not believe me." He drew his sword. "This is the Sword Saint's sword. Look here at this character on the hilt. This is another holy symbol that focused all of his power and . . ." Hiro looked up at the staff and for the first time noticed something just above Gabriel's hand. Hiro gasped in astonishment. "Gabriel, look!" He dropped the sword and approached the staff. He traced his finger into an engraving found just before the top started curving. It was shaped exactly like the character on the sword's hilt, only it was backwards.

Gabriel also touched it. He never noticed it before because nothing drew attention to it, no change in the color or anything. "Il ne peut pas etre," (It can't be) Gabriel whispered. "This is the same rod? My ancestor met . . . whoever that guy was?"

"Call him by his title, Gabriel. Kensei."

"It's just . . . Je ne peux pas le crois." (I can't believe it.)

"Then believe this. This is your relic. It will focus your powers, your strength. In whatever you lack, I can teach you with the lessons that my father and Kensei taught me."

Gabriel looked up at the sky, which started clouding over. "It looks like rain, doesn't it? Rain would really feel good." Even as he was talking, it started to sprinkle. He chuckled. "Rain in the desert. How often does that happen?"

"Rain would be good. You know, there was a tapestry made telling the story of Kensei and the shepherd training, and for some reason in the picture, it's raining. There is no mention of rain in the story."

"Artistic interpretation?"

"Or perhaps it really did happen, and that day it rained."

"I suppose . . . we can try to repeat history or mythology or whatever it is."

* * *

Bennet was taking the familiar route to his old job. It felt a little weird, almost as weird as seeing the passenger seatbelt buckled with nobody in it.

"I know you've been somewhat bitter about everybody. We can actually use that to our advantage. You see, this young lady we're going after can make people like her."

"What, just like her?" he heard Claude chuckle.

"This is no time for jokes. You have to resist her ability, show her no mercy."

"No problem. You know, she doesn't sound much unlike other women to me."

"It's not. You weren't here when Eden was here. I understand she's much like Eden, maybe even stronger, like a siren."

"No, still not convinced.."

"I don't care, just take her in."

* * *

Candace and Allison were in the elevator again, coming down. Allison was holding her hand close to her face, and Candace first noticed a huge diamond ring on her finger. "You married?"

"No," Allison said in a dreamy voice. "This was a ring from me gran. I just like to look at it. When the light hits it just right . . . it just helps me from getting too stressed."

"What happens then?"

"Let's just say me gran called me a banshee." The elevator doors opened, and then went into the main lobby. "It's raining! I hate rain!"

"Yeah, me too. Maybe this'll cool us off for a little while, unless it just gets humid."

"No, you don't get it. I hate how rain looks, sounds, smells, feels, and tastes. I hate rain!"

"Want me just to bring the car around then?"

"You do that. I'll wait in here."

Allison waited in the lobby for about five minutes, then she got impatient. "What's taking her? She couldn't have parked that far. She's got to have a better parking space."

She walked out under the canopy and looked around. Just then, lighting flashed. At that moment, Allison thought she saw something in the lightning. It looked like a person. Her heart went cold, and she started slowly backing away from the canopy. Then she started to run. But just as she got over into the rain, she felt someone grab her from behind. She started kicking and screaming.

"Will you hold still?" she heard a voice hiss in her ear. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Let me go! Let me go!" Her screams became even louder and more frantic. She started waving her hands in front of her face.

"Allison?" Candace called. "Allison, where are you?"

Allison kept screaming and crying. It was all Claude could do to get the tranquilizer in her neck. She slipped out of his arms once she was unconscious. Claude hesitated as he looked at her as though something had just occurred to him. Then he saw the other woman looking in his direction, and he quickly picked up Allison and headed for Bennet's car.

* * *

It was a very strong drizzle in the Nevada desert as Hiro and Gabriel faced each other. "Alright, we'll start if you just mimic what I do," Hiro said.

"D'accord," Gabriel nodded.

Hiro drew his sword. Gabriel held his staff with both hands in front of him. Hiro bowed, and so did Gabriel. Hiro then moved his sword to the right, and so did Gabriel. He liked the "swish" sound it made. Hiro then cut to the left, and Gabriel did too. This happened a few times. Hiro was hopeful that Gabriel would get into a rhythm and then he'd come at him, but each time Gabriel panicked and backed away. A few times he dropped his staff.

"Why don't we try this? Just go hand over hand like this." He was making his sword rotate in front of him like a propeller. Gabriel found that he could manage this well with his staff since it was a two-handed weapon. "Excellent! This is a very powerful move. It works as defense as well offense. The enemy cannot approach you without getting hurt."

"What about if they attacked me in the back?"

"You learned to stave that off as you become more advanced. You're doing great–oh!"

Something was happening. Gabriel was beginning to glow a brilliant blue, and so was the staff. "What's going on?"

"It's just like the story. It's absorbing your chi!"

"But this isn't chi, it's . . . I'm not sure what it is."

"Here, hold it still. Let me see if I could make it add mine." He came forward put his hand on it, and closed his eyes. His cheeks quivered a little bit. The blue light dulled and eventually faded away.

"I didn't see any difference." He was thinking that in French, but when it came out it didn't sound like French at all.

"Hai. I didn't either." Hiro's eyes grew wide, and he put his hand over his mouth. "Did I just say that in French?"

"No, you said that in Japanese. That's the first time I ever heard you talk in Japanese, and I understood it!"

"I think I got some of your powers!"

"You think so? Or maybe I really understand Japanese and am not just translating it without knowing."

"Let's test it. Say, 'I did it.'"

"I did what?"

"Never mind, just say it."

He thought "Je l'ai fait," but he said, "Yatta."

"Louder!"

"Yatta!"

"Now, scream it!"

"YATTA!"

Hiro laughed and hugged him. "Doesn't that feel good?"

"I don't know. I guess so." His eyes widened. "Do you think I got your power?"

"I don't know. Let's test that. OK, close your eyes, and concentrate. Believe with all of your heart and soul that time will obey your will. Now, tense every muscle. Don't forget to concentrate! Keep going, keep going, now release!"

Gabriel opened his eyes.

"Well, did anything happen?" Hiro asked anxiously.

"It's still raining, so I guess not."

"Then, I suppose the staff doesn't work that way. But that's ok. You'll figure it out."

* * *

Once Michael felt refreshed and strong, he transformed back. Glass shattered all around him. He must have been placed in a vase. He was quiet, and he heard a voice.

"Yes, he's here."

Someone's on the phone. "A.P.," Michael whispered. He followed the voice.

" . . . Oh . . . Alright . . . Well, I don't know where he is exactly, but I'm sure I know how to find him . . . Yes, I will . . . Don't worry, I have everything in hand . . . Yes . . . Yes . . . Thank you . . . Goodbye."

The person talking on the phone was sitting on the couch. Michael watched as the person hung up the phone. "I was wondering when you were going to come around." A.P. turned to him, and Michael's face went livid.

"Angela," Michael said coldly.

Mrs. Petrelli gave him a thin smile. "Michael. It's been a long time." She didn't have a hint of surprise in her voice.

"Almost twenty years. As I recall, I haven't seen you since the wedding. That's about the time when you ran off to America. Good riddance, I thought."

"You didn't have to say that, Michael. That's the problem with you. You've always been too frank."

"Sorry. You know, I don't know how you did it, but you raised your son well. Peter? He's a fine young man, a good man. That is your son, right? Petrelli isn't a very common name here, is it?"

"Enough of the pleasantries, Michael. Tell me, why did you escape?"

Michael looked at him in fury. "How did you know?"

"I don't have to answer that, Michael. You know the answer."

"I should have known. It was you! You sent me there! Why?"

"Isn't that obvious? Michael, I care about you."

"You lied to my son! You took me out of his life and told him I was dead!"

"He didn't need to be involved when you're like this. I wanted to take him in myself, raise him with my sons, but you gave Power of Attorney to his other aunt."

"You don't know what you're talking about. I was the best person to raise him. I know him better than anyone on earth. I understand him on a level no one else can! Why did you try to change that?"

"I don't understand that about you. Would you want to live your whole life with a broken arm? A crippled leg? With cancer? Then why would you want to live your life with a broken brain?"

"It's not broken! It just . . ." He started crying. "I suppose I should thank you for sparing my life, but I was happy. Things were fine before."

"You don't see it, Michael, but you need to be better, or at least useful. You had potential, and we had to get it out of you. It's what Ruth would have wanted."

"Ruth loved me the way I am. That's what you don't see."

"Are you so sure about that? Do you know what happened to her?"

Michael glared at her. "Do you?"

Angela looked down then walked toward the window. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, Michael, but it's time you learned the truth. Ruth never loved you."

"That's a lie! She would tell me every second of every day–"

"–Because it's what you wanted to hear. Don't misunderstand. Ruth liked you. She admired you. She may have even been physically attracted to you. But at the heart of the matter, it wasn't love. She felt sorry for you. That's what you don't understand. That's your real problem. You cannot see the difference between love and pity."

"What would you know? You weren't her mother, just her aunt."

"I think you fail to see the sway I have over this family. Do you recall when she went to America alone to visit family? I believe you had a Victor Hugo conference at the time and could not come. She ran to me crying. She told me marrying you was a mistake. She said you dropped the baby a few times, nearly killed him. She wanted something, anything to be done to help you. If only she waited a little longer . . . but she gave up. She killed herself."

"No. She, she was sick. She died in my arms."

"It was poison. She chose it herself, something to make her die slow, make it seem the result of an infection. She wanted to say goodbye to you. I don't think she wanted you to know the truth."

"Nothing you can say will ever make me believe you."

"You don't have to, but it's true. I have letters, and she left her journal here."

Michael looked away in shock.

"But I have good news that will make this seem like a distant memory. You're going back."

"How is that good news?"

"Because your son will be with you. Not that that will matter over time, but it might relieve you for the moment."

"I'm not going back!"

"You don't have much of a choice. I'm sorry about this." She hit him on the back of the head, forced him into a bedroom, and locked the door. Michael thought about changing into something and escaping, but he was so emotionally drained at the upsetting news that he couldn't concentrate. He just sat on the floor and wept.

Then he heard a loud rap on the window. He looked out, but he didn't see anything. He opened the window anyway, and suddenly Peter appeared floating before him. "Peter? How–?"

"Shh!" Peter hissed. Then he beckoned to him and whispered, "Come on." Michael climbed out of the window, Peter caught him, and they flew off.

* * *

Claude put Allison, still unconscious, down on the table at Bennet's office. Then he materialized and looked straight at his old partner. "She's one of 'em," he said.

"Well, I knew that. That's the whole reason we got her," he answered.

"No, not one of them, one of them! One of the Japanese girl's lot."

"She's autistic?"

"I don't know, but something's not right. You know what? You might be onto something with that theory. When I first saw her, she looked right at me. She knew I was there! She was trying to get away!"

"I just don't see how that can be."

"I just touched her on the shoulder, and she freaked out like I was Jack the Ripper!"

"Anyone would, especially if they were attacked by someone invisible."

"Do they fling their hands around like this?" He demonstrated. "I'm telling you, something's not right."

"I told you not to fall for her charm!"

"I didn't! I brought her here, didn't I? And I don't agree with what she's doing. I just . . . I feel a little soft-hearted."

"I think I've only seen that expression on your face once in my whole time I ever worked with you." He had another thought on the tip of his tongue when Allison started to stir. Claude promptly disappeared.

"You?" Allison said hazily. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I think I should get right to the point. Why are you working on Operation Northpoint? Don't try to lie to me. We both know–"

"I had Rett's!"

"You . . . what?"

"I had Rett's Syndrome as a little girl. It's a rare form of autism only found in girls. My childhood was a sensory nightmare."

He had a feeling that Claude was making an "I-told-you-so" face somewhere behind his invisible mask. "Ok, I . . . didn't know that. What does that have to do with anything?"

"You don't understand! I don't have it anymore! They did it. It was an Easter present. I remember, an old man, he looked like Father Christmas. He touched me, and it didn't hurt. He looked in my eyes, and they didn't blind me. I was healed. They did it to me. I owe them, now."

"Owe them?" Claude appeared, laughing. "You don't owe them nothing, sweetheart. They didn't do nothing."

"You! You attacked me!"

"Attacked, tapped you on the shoulder–"

"In the rain!"

"Romantic, eh? But my point–they didn't change you. You only thought they did. You know what they did? They chained you! You have no freedom! You can't go anywhere they don't want to go, fraternize with anyone they forbid you to. Now they got you thinking you owe them? What, body, heart, soul, mind? No, this is what they really want. They want you to do busy work for a little while, and then one day they'll just snap their fingers and you'll fall down dead! Then they'll pick at your brain and whatever else to figure what makes this little goose lay golden eggs."

"Man. You really thought this through," Bennet muttered.

"You're just trying to scare me," Allison said. "You have no idea what scares me, what spurs me on."

"What does spur you on?"

"I know that they're all hurting, like me when I was a child. I want to stop their pain. I want to heal them!"

"Are you sure they want to be healed?" Claude sneered.

"Of course they do! That's what's called 'empathy,' isn't it?"

"No, that's called 'assuming that they're all like you.' I think you should look through their eyes more, not the eyes the Company gave you."

Meanwhile, there was a knock at the front door. Sandra answered. "Why, hello Mohinder!"

"Mrs. Bennet, how are you?"

"Fine, thank you. Noah's in his office. He says he's doing some important work and can't be interrupted, but the little one's in the living room."

"Ah, good." He went in and saw Hanami sitting on the couch watching TV. "Hello Hanami. So, you ready to go back home?"

She looked at him and shook her head.

"No? Well, why not?" He went over and squatted down so that he was at her eye-level. She responded by putting her hands on his temples. "What are you doing?"

"Mohinder," a voice said behind him.

Mohinder turned around and saw a Japanese man in dark clothes looking down at him. "Who are you?"

"Her uncle."

"You can't be Hiro! Unless, are you from the future?"

Hiro nodded. "You're seeing through Hanami eyes, and she always sees me. I have a message for you–stay where you are."

"OK." Mohinder stayed perfectly still, but Hiro was silent. "Wait, that was your message? No 'Save the cheerleader, save the–?'"

"We've already done that!" a disembodied voice answered. "Frankly, I'm quite sick of it." An older man appeared at Hiro's side.

"Who are you?"

"The Ghost of Christmas Past, I suppose."

"It doesn't matter," Hiro said. "Mohinder, you must not leave. People are coming to take her. You must protect her from them. If you stay with her, in just a few days, you will see amazing things."

"Don't listen to him, Mohinder," another voice said. Peter also appeared out of nowhere, but he had this long slash across his face. "He's not saving the future. He's only delaying it. There's only one thing that'll stop it!"

"I'm not going to do it, Peter!"

"Put an end to it! You can. You have it in your hand!"

"No! Never!"

"You just suggest that again, mate," the older man said holding up a fist in Peter's face.

"Claude, you know what's going to happen. You know what causes it. It has to–"

"STOOOOOOOOOOOP!" Mohinder had both his hands on his head and his eyes shut. He finally looked at Hanami. "They're in your head? How do you stand it?"

She got down off the couch and ran to the window. The sun was coming out. "Oh!" she cried, and she ran outside.

"Where are you going?" Mohinder asked, chasing after her. Sandra, Lyle, and Claire soon followed. Noah and Claude must have heard the clamor, because they came out, too. Hanami pointed up to the horizon and said a Japanese word. Mohinder looked up and smiled. "Oh, a rainbow!"

"Well, isn't that lovely!" Sandra said.

"It's pretty," Claire remarked.

"Yes," Sandra said. She picked up her dog and said in a baby voice, "Mr. Muggles thinks so too, even though he's color blind."

"Don't see many of those anymore," Claude mused. He patted Hanami's shoulder. "Thanks, love."

"Yes, thank you for sharing that with us," Noah said.

"How'd she see it that quickly?" Lyle asked. "It just stopped raining."

"Well, it's just like that Dolly Parton song," Sandra answered, "'If you wanna see rainbows, you gotta put up with the rain.'"

Standing off in the distance, Allison was watching too. Something about the whole scene moved her, and she couldn't really figure out what it was.

* * *

Dusk was falling on Central Park, and Michael found the Haitian sitting on a park bench. "Love?" he asked. "That was the strangest expression of love I've ever seen."

"What did she tell you? I can try to explain it to you."

"She told me that my wife didn't love me and committed suicide."

"Oh . . . I am sorry. I did not know. This was a mistake. Would you like for me to take you back to your son and take away the memory of this trip?"

"No. I would just like to be left alone for a while."

"Very well. Let me know when you are ready to leave." He walked away.

Michael picked up a large stick and imagined piano keys. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the image until he felt the stick go smooth under his hands. Then, he started to play "Claire de Lune," but just after getting a few measures in, he broke down. He buried his head in his hands and cried.

Then, someone else started playing the next part, a few octaves higher than it should be, but still. Michael looked up and saw Peter playing. "I didn't know you could play."

"I couldn't, not until I met you."

"It was our song. She wanted to walk down the aisle to it rather than the Wedding March."

"There's something you need to understand about Mom. Most of the stuff that she says she doesn't mean. They may not even be completely true. She has ulterior motives. Don't feel bad, though. I didn't even know until last year."

"I'm not surprised. She's always been like that. She didn't want Ruth to marry me, and I never could understand why. That part of Ruth's family was just very mysterious."

"Yeah."

"But I just want to know how much of it is true."

Peter stopped playing. "I can't say. I've only see Ruth once my whole life that I can remember. It must have been sixteen, seventeen years ago. I was just a kid. I don't even remember it well."

"So I may never know?"

"Well, why don't you ask her?" He nodded his head over. Michael looked up, and he saw her standing in white dress.

"Ruth!"

"Michael!"

He hugged her. Peter started playing the waltz-like part in the middle of the song, and they started to dance. But then he looked up at her. "Is what your aunt said true?"

"She didn't understand. It might have been hard for me at the beginning. Michael, you know depression runs in my family. I didn't want to tell you, but I was going through it, and the thoughts were there. I turned to her to help me sort them out, but she just encouraged them. But before I came home, I changed my mind."

"How?"

"I had a talk with someone I barely knew. I don't even really remember what he said, but it hit me. It spoke to me that it would be better for you and my son if I lived."

"Then why were you taken from me?"

"I think Aunt Angela really didn't want us together."

"Are you saying that she–?"

"Whoa!" Peter suddenly stopped playing again. "Noah just sent me a text. We gotta go!"

"Go where?"

"I don't know. I think we're going to find your son. It would be easiest if you transformed into something that could fit in my pocket."

"Alright." Michael closed his eyes and promptly became a button. Peter picked him up, put him in his pocket, turned invisible, and took off.

* * *

Bennet got Claire and Hanami into the car. "Now Claire, we're going to pick up Harmony. She'll be your responsibility. I got Hanami taken care of. Mohinder's following us. I texted Peter who's coming with Mr. Bonhomme, and we're going to find Gabriel."

"Uh, how?"

Bennet showed her. "It's a GPS device. I installed a tracking system in everyone I thought was connected with Sylar."

"Gabriel?"

"Well, at the time, I thought he was."

"What's all this for, Dad?"

"Safety in numbers, what we learned last year. If we stay together and take care of each other, everything's going to be alright."

* * *

Hiro started a fire, and Gabriel was sitting there watching it as they were preparing to sleep. "You know, Hiro, I was wondering. Madame Sanders said you gave Sylar what was coming to him. So what did you do?"

"I killed him."

"What?"

"Yes, I killed him with a sword. Not this sword but another. What, do you think I can't do it?"

"No, it just seems a little impossible because he's still alive."

"How can that be?"

"I don't know, but I've come up against him several times. He seems alive to me. Wait, I remember seeing a huge wound in his chest. He's still able to live even though you killed him?"

"Perhaps. He is evil, like the boogeyman. Maybe he is immortal. But good always triumphs over evil, so one day he will meet his end."

"Hey, who is that?" They both looked over and saw a boy playing with a soccer ball.

"Maybe he knows the way to the reservation."

"I don't think so. He looks like an Indian, not a Native American."

"Huh?"

Gabriel took a deep breath. "He looks like an actual resident of India, like Mohinder, not a descendent of the people misidentified by Christopher Columbus as residents of India."

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to ask."

Gabriel stood up. "Excusez-moi!" The boy stopped playing and looked at him, smiling. "Bon soir (Good evening). You're doing a nice job with that futbol (soccer) there, better than what I could do. Um, do you know where Pyramid Lake is?"

"Mmm-hmm," the boy answered, nodding.

"And do you know where the Shaman lives?"

"Mmm-hmm," the boy nodded again.

"Can you please give us directions, a shortcut if you can?"

The boy grinned. He dropped the soccer and kicked it very hard with his bare foot. It flew above them like a shooting star. "Catch!"

Gabriel jumped on his bike and followed the flying ball. Hiro hopped into his basket. "What are you doing?"

"It's the only way I can keep up with you!" Hiro said.

"I'm just worried you'll slow me down."

"I can give you some extra speed if you need. Speed is just distance over time, and time I can manipulate."

But they were actually doing a good job keeping up with the flying soccer ball. They only had trouble when it landed on the other side of a canyon. Gabriel backed up the bike then soared over the gorge, but then he started to feel himself fall. The ground was coming fast, and he anticipated the thud.

Then, he opened his eyes. The sun was coming up. "It was a dream," he thought aloud. He sat up. "Where's the fire? I was sure we fixed that when I was awake." Then he looked up and saw bike tire tracks in the sand. "Oh no, I sleepwalked on the bike!" He got up. "Hiro! Hiro? Where are you?" he called out

"Gabriel, over here!" He found him standing on an overlook nearby. "Look!" Gabriel looked toward where Hiro was pointing, and he saw a beautiful blue lake.

"Is that Pyramid Lake?"

"That looks like a pyramid to me," Hiro said pointing to a pyramid-shaped rock formation.

"So we made it?"

"That's right."

"I got here in my sleep again, and you kept up?"

"I think so."

"Wow."

"Come on, say it. You deserve it, Gabriel."

Gabriel felt incredibly silly, but he said it anyway. "YATTA!"

To Be Continued . . .


	16. Visions

Chapter 16: Visions

Note--Part of this is based on a spoiler I heard regarding the upcoming season.

Hiro Nakamura and Gabriel Bonhomme–Pyramid Lake Reservation, Nevada

Hiro and Gabriel talked to a man in the town and asked to see the shaman. The man showed them where to go, and he indicated that the shaman was expecting them. It looked like an ordinary house they were led to, but inside was a rather spacious lobby before a doorway covered with an animal's skin instead of a door. "You go on," Hiro said. "I'll wait for you."

"Why won't you come in with me?"

"This is your quest. You must take the prize."

"But you led me here! You deserve it as much as I do!"

"I have no questions to ask."

"Then you can be with me, help me process the experience. I'm a little scared, Hiro, talking to someone like this."

"A hero must face his fears."

"I try, Hiro, but they take over. I don't think I can be the brave hero you envision. I'm better off as a sidekick. I need help from others, like you. Please, Hiro."

"OK, I'll go in."

Gabriel pulled back the animal skin curtain. The room was rather bare. There were a few vibrant rugs on the floor and a fire in the corner. Sitting at the front of the room was a man, cross-legged yet still somehow elevated, and wearing a mask. Gabriel, carrying his staff, approached the man nervously.

"Uh, bonjour monsieur. Tres bonjour. Je m'appelle Gabriel Paul Bonhomme. Je suis du Paris, le France. J'ai dix-sept ans. Je suis un etudiant a l'universite. Voila mon ami excellent Hiro Nakamura. Il est du Tokyo." Hiro grinned and gave him a "Live Long and Prosper" sign. Gabriel took a deep breath. He had to make sure he said this right. "We have come together, crossed a great desert, to seek your great wisd–ahh!" Quite suddenly, Gabriel was hit in the face with something. He flailed his arms around and then managed to cradle what hit him. Gabriel only noticed then that it was a soccer ball.

"Nice catch." Gabriel looked up at the man, who had taken off his mask. It was a boy smiling at him.

"Hey! I had a dream about you last night."

"He was in my dream!" Hiro said.

"You had that dream that we saw him, and he kicked that ball?"

"And we followed the ball on your bike!"

"Yeah. Wait, I know who you are," Gabriel said to the boy. "Something like Sanjong?"

"Mmm-hmm," the boy nodded.

"Mohinder told me about him," Gabriel said to Hiro.

"So he's an Indian Indian," Hiro observed.

"But Mohinder told me you don't come to people, they come to you."

"That is true, but I had a dream myself of a beautiful girl who showed me what I must show you, and she told me that I must seek you out for you were far away."

"This girl, was she wearing a silk dress with butterflies?"

"Yes! You have also seen her?"

"It's Hanami," Gabriel said softly to Hiro.

"Please, sit down," Sanjong said gently. "There is much you must see. It is a very long story. It may seem jumbled, for it is many stories within stories. Some happened long ago, and some have yet to happen. But they all play a part of your story. You must understand so that you will know what you will become."

"What do I need to do?"

"Just stare at the fire, and let your mind drift away."

"I must warn you, I have a habit of sleepwalking."

The boy laughed. "This I know. I guided your steps here easily. I shall guide them again." Yet then he looked at Hiro. "But I don't know if it will be so easy for you."

"I thought so."

"Hiro!" Gabriel held to him his staff. Hiro somehow understood, for he sat next to Gabriel and put his hand on the symbol. Gabriel sat and watched the dancing flames. Slowly, his mind went numb and he grew tired.

Suddenly, he heard a bang.

* * *

Three bangs in succession. The air was chilly. Gabriel looked around and saw that he was no longer in the same room. He and Hiro were sitting on an empty pew in a courthouse. Sanjong was nowhere to be seen.

"All rise! Family court is now in session!" the bailiff announced. "Judge Shulam presiding!" He turned to the middle-aged woman judge and handed her a folder. "Your honor, this is case number 723 on the calendar in the manner of Nakamura vs. Nakamura and Nakamura. All parties have been sworn in. You may be seated and come to order."

"Nakamura?" Gabriel whispered to Hiro. "Is that you?"

"Mr. Hiro Nakamura," the judge said. "You are suing your sister Kimiko and your brother-in-law Mayonaka for custody of their eldest daughter Hanami, is that correct?"

"Yes, your honor," an Asian man at the podium replied.

"What's happened to me?" Hiro said. "What's happened to my hair? It's so straight! And is that a tie I'm wearing?!"

"Shh! You're talking about Hanami," Gabriel whispered.

"Because, your honor," Future Hiro replied, "they are not acting as parents to her. They lavish love on their nine-year-old son and even their three-year-old daughter, but they pretend like she never existed, just because she was not what they wanted. They threw her away!"

"Now, Mr. Nakamura, the defendants say in their answer that you are exaggerating this," the judge said

"Yes, your honor," Kimiko spoke up. "Our daughter has a rather severe case of autism. Her language was very delayed. She didn't speak until she was three. We did not throw her away. We sent her to the greatest autism research facility in the world. All we want is for our daughter to become a successful woman who contributes to society."

"Your honor, I have been to see her," Hiro said, "and where they put her was not a good place. She is merely a shell of what she used to be. She is not verbal at all, and she does not seem to respond to me or anything. Besides, I believe that there is something else going on in her mind beyond autism, something that I alone can help her with."

"And what would that be?" the judge asked.

"It is difficult for me to explain."

"He believes he can travel through time!" Mayonaka spoke up. "We do not agree that Hiro would be a good choice for her. He is mentally unstable."

"That is not true, your honor. I have a credible witness if you wish for me to call him, a Nobel Prize nominee."

"Interesting. Who might that be?"

"Dr. Mohinder Suresh, your honor."

"Dr. Mohinder Suresh, please step forward." A man who was sitting just a few rows in front of them rose and approached the podium. "Raise your right hand. Do you swear . . ."

"Nobel nominee?" Gabriel whispered. "He still hasn't won?"

Hiro shrugged.

"Yes I do, your honor," Mohinder answered.

"What is your field?" the judge asked.

"I am a geneticist."

"What do you have to contribute to this case?"

"There are millions of genes in every human, millions of possibilities of what every person can become. The genes for autism are just one possibilities, but there are other genes that can help us as a human race realize our full potential. I have here my research that Hanami Nakamura has both of these such genes. I have also been to see her at the research facility, and I agree that it is not an ideal to her, that it may actually be a hostile environment for her development."

"And what is your experience working with autism?"

Mohinder paused. "I . . . have not worked with autism professionally. I am in the process of publishing the book, but it is based on my father's papers."

"Thank you, Dr. Suresh."

"Yes, your honor." He turned around, and for the first time Gabriel saw he had a full beard and glasses.

"Wow. How far in the future are we?"

"Mr. Nakamura," the judge said, "I understand your concern for your niece. However, as an uncle and not the next of kin, you do not have custody rights of Hanami Nakamura, and I have received no evidence that Hanami is in a hostile environment. This case is dismissed." She banged the gavel again.

* * *

Immediately, the scenery changed. Gabriel and Hiro found themselves in a small space that smelled very strongly of paint. "What's this place?" Gabriel asked. He looked down at the floor and saw a huge picture of a mushroom cloud in what looked like New York.

"This is Mr. Isaac's home," Hiro answered.

"I take it he's an artist."

"He made comic books. When I first came to America, I found a comic book he drew of me. He could paint the future."

"What happened to him?"

"Sylar killed him."

Gabriel then walked into a tight string strung on the walls. "What's this? Conceptual art?"

"Oh! I'm still doing this?"

"You made this?"

"It's a time line. Look. Each string represents a person and events that happened in their life." Gabriel followed Hiro's finger and looked at all the newspaper articles and pictures. It was so much, he wanted to take it all in, read everything, but he somehow knew that wasn't why he was here. "But why? Surely the bomb didn't happen. Oh, look. There I am. That's more like it."

Future Hiro's hair looked very messy, and he was dressed in a black leather trench coat. He was paper clipping paper to a strand of brilliantly yellow colored yarn.

"You look tired," Gabriel said.

"When I first saw this time line, my future self told me that he worked on this for five years. I probably lost a lot of sleep so that this wouldn't take so long."

There was a knock on the door. "Come in," Future Hiro said.

The door opened, and the spy walked in with older Mohinder, who was carrying a package. "Our condolences, Hiro," the spy said.

"They are appreciated," Hiro replied without turning around.

"I am very sorry I failed you today," Mohinder said. "I wish the judge would have given me more of a chance to talk, but I did what I could."

"It's alright. I had a feeling it wouldn't matter, but it was worth a try."

"My testimony?"

"I apologize. That is not what I meant. I was referring to the whole trial. That was plan B. This is plan A."

"They were probably wondering why you waited until now to press this litigation," the spy said. "I was actually surprised that the judge didn't bring that up."

"I wasn't," Hiro said, still not looking at them. "I knew I was sunk the moment they mentioned her autism. You saw how quickly the judge threw your testimony out. She probably thought this was all a joke, that I didn't have a chance."

"So how long have you been working on this?"

"Another five years. I think I am almost done, but the biggest piece of the puzzle is still missing." He pointed to a paper on the yellow yarn. "That is the day she was diagnosed." He pointed to a picture right after a huge gap. "And that was her sixth birthday. Something happened in between those two days that changed everything. It is why she was taken from me."

"What is this here?" The spy looked closer at the picture on the end. "A rainbow around the moon?"

"My brother-in-law took that picture. It's a rare astrological event that occurred the day before. Hanami must have been the first to have seen it. She always loved rainbows. They all did."

"Speaking of that," Mohinder said, "I have something for you. First one, hot off the presses. I think you should have it. You deserve it."

Mohinder extended the package. Hiro took it, tore it open, and pulled out a book. "'Colors of the Spectrum'?" Hiro read aloud.

"They are my father's unpublished papers about autism. I tried to fill in the gaps some. I wrote the introduction. Basically, he affirms what Dr. Bonhomme has been saying all along."

"Dr. Bonhomme?" present Hiro whispered. "Your father?"

"Papa prefers to be called 'Professor.' Maybe he means me."

Future Hiro, though, tossed the book into the corner.

"Hiro!" Gabriel said, clearly hurt.

"Sorry," present Hiro replied.

"No one will read it," Future Hiro mumbled.

"Hiro, I'm trying to do something. I'm trying to open their eyes, make them understand."

"You can't. People don't work that way. Once people shut their eyes at something, they don't want to open them, no matter how convincing the evidence. Autistic people like my niece are on the bottom rung of the ladder, and I intend to change that, whatever it takes."

"I remember this day." The spy pointed to a place where several pieces of colored yarn crossed and looked like a multicolored knot.

"Yes," Mohinder said. "Something special happened then. Was that the start of it?"

"That another essential piece of the puzzle, but I'm not sure if I'll ever understand it."

"What do you think that is?" Gabriel whispered.

"I don't know!" present Hiro answered. "I just said I'll never understand it!"

Mohinder and the spy soon left, and very quickly after they did, a laptop in the corner beeped. Future Hiro ran to it, wiggled the mouse to stop the screensaver, and clicked on his instant messenger. The message was from someone called "Wireless," and it simply said, "I found something."

Future Hiro typed back, and the computer beeped again. "That is something."

* * *

The scene changed again. "Zut! I was hoping we'd find out what she found."

"Me too," Hiro said.

"Where are we now?"

"I don't know. Looks almost like my house growing up."

"Really?"

"Well, in that it's big and expensive. It doesn't look very Japanese, though."

"Shh! I hear someone speaking in French."

"I hear it, too. Someone crying."

They ran out and followed the voice and found two people sitting on the patio. "It's the woman in the picture," Gabriel whispered.

"What picture?"

"In Peter's apartment. That's right, I never told you about–" He gasped as he got a better look at the other person, the one crying. "Mama!" He ran out to her.

"I was just thinking you were right," Gabriel's mother sobbed. "It was a mistake. I mean the way he handles my son, always being so close to dropping him. He's going to kill him one day. And I know he wants so badly to be a good father. I just, I don't know what to do. I've been feeling so depressed lately, but I don't want to cry in front of him. Just bottling it up until it hurts. And I get these thoughts sometimes that . . . I want to die."

Gabriel gasped. His father never told him how his mother died. Was it a suicidal thought brought on by postpardum depression?

"You brought this on yourself, Ruth," the woman said coldly.

"Didn't you hear me? I'm contemplating suicide! Please, tell me I'm a fool. Tell me I have something to live for. Tell me I should live for the baby's sake."

"What do you expect me to do? I can't snap my fingers and make those thoughts go away. You could have listened to me when I told you to have nothing to do with him, but you didn't. And now, why do you come crying to me?"

"Because there's nowhere else I can turn. I just wish there was someway to make him better, someway to fix all of this."

"Well there isn't, is there?"

"Ma!" a teenage voice called from inside the house. "Aren't you going to help me with my history project?"

"Coming Nathan!" she called back. "Execusez-moi," she said discreetly as she got up.

"Who were they talking about?" Hiro asked.

"It almost sounds like they were talking about . . . Papa and . . ." As he spoke, the woman unbound some blankets that were resting in her lap and revealed the head of a baby boy. Gabriel was in complete shock as he whispered, " . . . moi."

As he watched, a boy probably about 8 years old with long, dark hair and wide eyes ran up the patio giggling. He stopped promptly when he saw the stranger. "Hello," he said cheerfully. "Are you Cousin Rose?"

"Yes. You must be little Peter."

"Peter Petrelli?" Hiro asked. "I did not know you were related."

"I didn't either," Gabriel whispered back.

"You talk funny," Peter said.

"I'm from France, another country. Did you know that's where your mother is from?"

"Uh-uh," Peter said shaking his head.

"Yes. Your mother is my aunt."

"And who is this?"

She held up the baby. "This is your cousin, too. His name is Gabriel."

"Hello, Gabriel." He held out his finger, and the baby grasped it tightly. Peter laughed. "Where's his daddy?"

"He's far away."

"My daddy's far away, too. His with his friend from the war. I miss him."

"He'll be back soon."

"I hope so." Peter looked closer at Ruth's face. "Are you crying?"

"I was. I'm very sad."

"Why?"

"Oh, many reasons. You wouldn't understand."

"Gabriel doesn't want you to be sad. I wish I could take your sadness away so that you can be happy.

Ruth stared at Peter for a moment, and Peter looked back at her with honest, innocent eyes. "That's a very grownup wish."

"Peter!" the other woman called from out the window, "Don't bother Cousin Ruth."

"Sorry Ma," Peter called back. He gave Ruth one last sad look and walked away.

"So, we really are related," Gabriel thought aloud. "Is she the one Papa told me was bad?"

"She didn't seem very nice," Hiro observed.

Mrs. Petrelli stepped out onto the patio. "Would you like to come in for some coffee, Ruth?"

"That would be nice," she said as she walked in.

"Well, that seemed fine," Gabriel noted.

* * *

The scene changed again. "Oh, I know where we are!" Gabriel said as he looked at the pigeon coop.

"I know this place, too. This is where I saw the bomb."

"The bomb?" Just then, the door to the pigeon coop opened by itself. "Ah! Monsieur Rains! He's here!"

"Who?"

"Claude Rains," a voice said behind them. They turned around and saw Future Hiro who was looking past their shoulders.

Gabriel looked back and saw a much older Mr. Rains than what he saw before, in much shabbier clothes, a bald and white haired head, and a shaggy, gray beard. He looked at future Hiro with a little surprise. "Nakamura Jr. What brings

"I looked for you everywhere, and for that matter, everywhen."

Claude scoffed. "'Everywhen.' Cute. You donated that to the OED yet?"

"The what?"

"Oxford English Dictionary, the Bible of English vocabulary! You know what? Forget it; you're the only one who could use it anyway." He turned back to the pigeon coop. "So are you so surprised that you haven't found me until now?"

"I think you forget that my eyes are open to you, that I see you as I would every other man."

"Oh . . . yeah. Well, even if that were so, I have a habit of keeping on the move. Bet even you can't keep up."

"You always come back to your pigeons sooner or later. I need your help."

"Sorry. Altruism never was my thing, and the days of my being a mentor have come and gone."

"I think you'll want to help me when I make my request."

"That's likely," Claude muttered.

"Do you remember my niece, Hanami Nakamura?"

Claude paused and looked away. "Yeah. I remember her." He then very quickly spun around. "Tell you what. You tell me how I can forget her, and you got yourself a deal."

"Now you don't mean that."

"Well, of course I do! She haunts me! Every time I go to sleep, she comes in my dreams, but she's always beyond me reach. I'm losing sleep, and that's not good in my condition."

"I know it's her present state that upsets you. What I'm trying to do is to prevent that from happening. I'm about to go back in time to a specific day in her life, the day I think this was all set in motion. I'm going to do my best to help her control it, embrace it, so it won't take over. And I want you to come with me."

"Why? What do you think I'd do?"

"I'm convinced that there are only two neurotypical people in her life that she paid any attention to, that she may have even loved. One of them is me. The other is you. And you told me before that she knew you before you knew her, and it boggled your mind. What if it's because of this? Perhaps she knew you because I brought you from the future to meet her. This could be destiny calling."

"I'm old, Hiro. I know your lot have much respect for the elderly, but really we're just bitter. All I've really been doing is waiting to die. I don't have the time or energy to roll around with rugrats."

"You really have changed. Bennet told me you used to be passionate about this issue."

* * *

The scene changed again to a conference room full of people. A silver-haired man approached a podium. "Good evening and welcome," he said into the microphone. "It's been a long, hard, productive year, and I want to thank all of you for your hard work. I think you might be interested to see how productive we are around the globe. So to tell us of an exciting new program, I want to welcome our friend from across the pond, the London CEO of Primatech Papers" (he said that last part hurriedly, and most people laughed), "Franklin."

There was loud applause, as a man with blond hair and horned rimmed glasses came to the podium. "Thank you, Thompson," the man greeted.

"The spy?" Gabriel whispered.

"What spy?" Hiro said back.

"You know, Claire's father?"

"The Cheerleader's father's a spy? Yahoo! James Bond!"

"Non, non, not good spy. Bad. Scary. Dangerous." He leaned over and whispered, "Spying on us!"

Hiro looked closer at him. "I don't think that's the Cheerleader's father."

"But he looks just like him!"

"But that's not his voice. Listen."

So Gabriel listened. "I've heard about a place called Northpoint," Franklin explained. "The way it was explained to me is it's a prison, a place of isolation and despair. Yet locked within this prison is a secret, a mystery, something wondrous and amazing to the few who discover it. I have since come to understand that this isn't a physical place. The prison here is that of autism. In Europe, we are making great strides in unlocking this prison. Asperger's Syndrome, for instance, was only available for decades to people who spoke German. I believe with a little bit more time of experimentation, observation, and knowing what we're looking for, I think we can discover more than a psychological disorder. We already have one subject who is responding beautifully to the treatment. By year's end, we hope to acquire another. Our goal is to have 150 test subjects. I believe Operation Northpoint may lead to the greatest strides ever to happen to Primatech Papers." (More laughter) "Thank you, Merry Christmas, and here's to a prosperous new year!"

More applause, then suddenly it was a flurry of activity, people getting up and talking. "Look there, Gabriel!" Hiro said. "He looks like the Cheerleader's father!" He pointed to a man approaching Franklin.

"He's not wearing glasses," Gabriel argued.

"I think he's younger, we're in the past."

"But we were just in the future, weren't we?"

"Shh!"

"That's a very intriguing program you are working on," the man said as he shook the speaker's hand. "It certainly is a new spin on what we do."

"Thank you very much, Mr. . . ."

"Bennet."

"Oh yes, Thompson told me about you. You haven't been with you very long, have you?"

"Almost seven years."

"And how's your daughter?"

"Oh, she's doing well. She's quite normal. So, I was wondering if you do a newsletter? I'd love to get on the mailing l–" Suddenly, his head was sharply turned away, and he rubbed his cheek. A man with shoulder-length blond hair appeared next to him, looking furious. "What was that for?"

"For not looking with your eyes!" the man replied.

"Monsieur Rains?" Gabriel whispered.

Claude turned to Franklin. "What you're doing is wrong! Have we no boundaries? I can understand studying someone me. I can handle it! But these kids, they didn't ask to be this way."

"Our subject is in the early twenties," Franklin replied.

"It's a kid! They're all kids. You talk about freeing them from some stupid prison, but all you're doing is locking them away! You should be ashamed of yourself! How do you sleep at night?" He angrily left.

"What's with him?" Bennet asked.

"Je ne peux pas le crois," Gabriel whispered. "He's a spy too."

"Invisibility is the best power a spy can have." The scenery changed as he spoke. Hiro's jaw dropped, and he looked around in wonder.

* * *

"Where are we now?"

"This is Hanami's house!"

"Goodnight, my little nightingale," they heard someone said.

"That's what my brother-in-law calls her." The man they saw opposing Hiro in the courtroom walked passed them in the hallway, and then they heard a knock at the door. He opened it and greeted the guest with a bow.

"Father?" Hiro said.

"That's your papa?" Gabriel said.

Hiro nodded. "What's he doing here?"

"Is this your friend?" Kimiko asked. "The one you told us about?"

"Yes," the man replied. "I wish to introduce of you to my friend, Bill Linderman."

He stepped to the side, and a man with white hair and a white beard stepped forward and bowed at both of them.

"That was the man I met on the bus!" Gabriel whispered. "I told you about him, remember?"

"It is an honor to meet both of you," Linderman greeted. Then a young Japanese man standing with them repeated what he said. It took a little bit for Gabriel to understand that he was translating what the guest said into Japanese.

"No, it is an honor to meet you," Kimiko said. "Please come in. I will fix you some tea."

"Oh, tea would be lovely!"

Everyone sat down in the main room. Kimiko poured Linderman a cup of hot tea. "Father has told you about us, and our daughter, has he?"

"Yes, he has."

"He says that you can do amazing things, that you can heal her somehow. Can you help her?"

Linderman put down the cup. "Well, I was hoping we could divert from this subject for a little while. I am sad to say that there is nothing I can do."

The message evidently didn't sink into Kimiko's mind even when it was translated. "No. Surely you can do something. Father said you could." Her voice started to crack.

"I know this is hard for you to hear, Mrs. Nakamura. I've been working with a gentlemen with a condition much like your daughters. I treated him over a year ago, and he's shown very little in the way of improvement. In fact, his . . . condition has become more severe than when he started."

"No!" Kimiko started to cry very loudly. Mayonaka put his arm around her and comforted her.

"How can this be?" Kaito asked. "You have been successful every time before."

"I can't understand it, Kaito. It should have worked. It felt like . . .a knot that I was unable to untie. The more I had straightened out, the more knotted it became."

"Why didn't you cut through it, like Alexander the Great?"

"I could have, but that would have destroyed the man." Kimiko cried louder. Linderman held her hand. "I'm so sorry, madam," he whispered. "I tried, I truly did."

"What upsets you so, dear?" Mayonaka said gently.

Kimiko sobbed, "She'll never be normal. She'll never contribute to society. She'll be a hikkomori!"

"Kimiko, she won't–" Kaito started to say.

"I am your heir, father! Who will be my heir?"

"There's still a plan B, isn't there?"

"Oh yes, there's always a plan B," Linderman answered. "I have high hopes for plan B. You see, that same man has since been able to do extraordinary things with his mind alone. With some time of study and treatment, we can get her to a wonderful state."

"How long?" Mayonaka asked.

"I'm afraid it could take years."

"We can't start it. Not now. She's too young. She couldn't stand it."

"If not now, when?"

There was a long pause. Kimiko even stopped crying. Kaito finally broke the silence. "When she turns six-years-old."

"Father, no!" Mayonaka pleaded. "That's too soon!"

"That is when childhood begins in our culture," Kaito explained. "It's school age. She needs to be prepared then."

"That's just two years away, isn't it? That's not very long," Linderman commented.

"And we have a very special ceremony that occurs on her sixth birthday. We would be honored to have you attend."

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world. Now, I hate to run, but there is an important matter I must attend back in America."

"Thank you for your time, my friend," Kaito said as they rose.

"You are most welcome," Linderman replied with a bow. "And thank you for the tea."

As they left, Mayonaka turned to his wife. "Kimiko, I know you are anxious for this, but don't rush her into anything. Can't we let her be a child for two more years?"

"What is more important?" Kimiko asked angrily. "That she be a child, or that she be a woman?"

"That man he was talking about," Gabriel said. "Could he mean–?"

"Gabriel, look!" Hiro said. "Hanami's door is cracked! She's listening!" They ran down the hall. "How do we get through?"

"This is just a dream, so we can–" Gabriel phased through the door, and Hiro followed. Then they both saw the person listening at the door wasn't Hanami but Future Hiro.

"Oh, my little dear one, what are going to do to you?" Future Hiro whispered.

Just then, a sleepy voice said behind Hiro, "Who are you?"

Hiro gasped and silently closed the door. "Hanami?" he said softly. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was, but I woke up when I heard you. Who are you?"

"Don't you recognize me, Hanami? I'm your uncle, Hiro."

"No. Uncle Hiro's eyes are shiny."

"Shiny?"

"And he doesn't have a stick coming out of his back."

"Oh, what this?" He reached for the strap of the case carrying his sword. "I can take it off."

"But . . . you still look different."

"I've changed. I don't . . . I'm not sure if you'll understand. Do you know what today is?"

"It's Tue--"

"No, no. I don't mean what day it is. I mean do you know what the word 'today' means?"

"It means the day now."

"That's right. And you know what yesterday is?"

"That's the day before today."

"Right. And tomorrow?"

"That's the day after today."

"Good. Well, you see Hanami, I come from many tomorrows away. I am from a place where much is different. Much has changed. I changed. You changed."

"I don't like change."

"I know, me neither. I here to try to keep you from changing too much."

Hanami suddenly gave a small cry and buried her head under the covers. "What's wrong, Hanami?" Future Hiro asked.

"No Face! I saw him. He's here."

"No Face?" Gabriel whispered.

"A ghost from the movie 'Spirited Away.'"

"Please don't let him get me," Hanami whispered.

Future Hiro looked right toward where Gabriel was standing. "Can he see me?" Gabriel whispered.

Future Hiro raised his eyebrows. "Why don't you show me, Hanami? Point to him."

Hanami pointed straight at Gabriel. "She sees me? How–?"

"Good. Now, can you show him to me?"

"But he's a ghost."

"Hanami, it's time you knew. You are very special. Whatever you think can happen. Even your dreams can come true. You not only can give No Face a face, you can make him your friend."

"How?"

"Just think about it. Remember the movie? Even No Face had a good heart in the end."

"But what does he really look like?"

"Whatever you want him to look like."

Hanami looked in Gabriel's direction, stared at him. She raised both of her hands. Gabriel felt a draft slowly picking up, and then he saw beside him a silhouette of a balding man with a beard. Slowly, he regained color and gained a flowing robe. He looked down at himself. "Whoa. Nice."

Future Hiro looked at him. "You came?"

"Well, I figured you were right. Don't make me say that again."

"Hanami, this is my friend Mr. Rains. He's a nice man, and he wants to be your friend."

"Hello, love. Say, do you like to play 'Hide and Seek'?"

* * *

"Where are we now?" Gabriel asked.

"This is feudal Japan!" Hiro gasped.

Gabriel looked around at the very green fields. "Feudal, like knights and lords? Where are they?"

They heard approaching hoof beats and looked toward where they were coming from. There they saw a man in full armor riding toward them carrying with him a white flag with the same symbol on Hiro's sword painted on it. "Takezo Kensei!" Hiro cried.

"That's really him?"

Then they heard a low note, sounding like a flute of some sort. Kensei heard it too, because he started riding toward it. Hiro and Gabriel followed him until they all came upon a boy with tanned skin carrying a shepherd's staff and playing a note on a pipe.

"Why are you here, boy?" Kensei said in a sharp tone as he made his horse halt. "Whitebeard will surely slaughter you!"

"Oh, sir!" the boy said. "I see you are a lord. Have you seen sheep?"

Kensei took off his helmet and looked at the boy. Gabriel was shocked to see an old, Caucasian male. "You're not from around here."

"He's not Japanese?" Gabriel said to Hiro. "I thought you said you knew him."

"I know. It surprised me too, but he's still a good man, and a good warrior. But the boy, they say the boy was wide-eyed and pale with fear," Hiro said quietly. "I never thought he wasn't Japanese."

Kensei got off his horse and approached the boy. "Qu'est-que le nom du votre pere?" (What is the name of your father) he asked.

"Spenser," the boy replied.

"Spenser? What is a kin of William Duke of Normandy doing out in these lands?"

The boy shrugged. "Why are you here?"

Kensei smiled. "Touche. Now, seriously, tell me lad, why are you out here alone?"

"One of my father's favorite sheep is lost. It is under my care, so I have to find it."

"Take my advice, lad. Forget the sheep, and go home. There is a very dangerous man with a great army, and if he finds you he will kill you."

"But I can't go home until the find the sheep. My father will punish me."

"Then can you fight?"

"No sir, I cannot fight. I only keep sheep."

"Come with me. I will show you how to live." Rain started to come down pretty hard. Kensei took the boy to the bank of a river. "Be like an image in the water. Do as I do."

The boy actually started out doing well, but as the rain came down harder the staff kept slipping out of his hands, and he kept tripping in the mud. Just like Hiro, Kensei tried to come at the boy when he seemed ready, but just like Gabriel those moments always tripped him up.

As the boy fell and lay in the mud, Kensei approached him. "I'm sorry boy. You cannot fight. You should take my advice and go home, or you'll die."

But the boy stood up. "What protects you?"

Kensei turned around.

"You have no shield. What keeps you from being harmed? Is it that sign on your sword? What is it?"

"What this? I don't really even know. I just found it in the snow one day–"

"Give it to me."

The boy handed him the staff. Kensei took his sword and carved into the wood the symbol. The boy looked at it. "It is not the same."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I got it backwards. Well, at least you'll always have memories of our little lesson."

Gabriel looked at Hiro. "He had no faith in him at all."

"He didn't even give him any respect," Hiro added. "The more I know about Kensei, the more I lose faith in stories."

* * *

Once more, the scene changed, and they were back in Isaac's loft. Future Hiro hung onto the yellow yarn a piece of paper that read "Linderman meets with Father and Hanami's parents."

"Hey, Hiro!" a voice said behind him.

Future Hiro turned around. "Peter Petrelli," he said calmly. "How's Nikki?"

"She's doing alright, considering."

"I hear congratulations are in order."

"Thanks, man. Listen, Noah told me you were doing this again, and Mohinder, and Claude told me what you've been up to with him."

"What business is that of yours?"

"I'm your friend. I'm worried about you."

"And I'm worried about Hanami."

"You don't have to be."

"What do you mean?"

"Did you ever read 'The Wizard of Oz'? All the characters are looking for a solution that they had all along? That's just like you. You literally have the solution in your grasp."

"I know. I'm working on it."

"I'm not talking about that string. I mean your sword."

"I've been using that too."

"Not to travel through time. I mean using it as a sword."

"What?" present Hiro gasped.

Future Hiro turned to him coldly. "You want me to kill her? But she's my niece! I love her!"

"Then how can you allow her to live like this? Think about the Brushido code. When one is wounded in battle and can no longer fight and is in suffering beyond what he can bear, another must swiftly end his life."

"Who's to say she's suffering?"

"I do! I visited her, and I went into her mind. Do you know what she's feeling? Nothing! She's locked away, and she lonely and hurting. She doesn't remember any of us. Not you, not me, not Claude, not Gabriel."

"It's not true. You're lying!"

"I wouldn't lie to you, Hiro. This whole experiment you're doing, it's not going to change things."

"This coming from the man who saved New York. And why did you save New York, Peter?"

"No, let's got into–"

"Because I told you, Peter! Five years ago, I came and I told you! 'Save the cheerleader, save the world!'"

"That's completely different!"

"How is it different?"

"I just think if it was not her, it would be somebody else. Besides, she's got a disease. None of us can take it away. No matter what we do, it's always going to end up the same."

"How dare he?" Gabriel whispered.

"Peter," Future Hiro said, "come here." Peter came closer to Hiro, and Hiro grabbed Peter and closed his eyes. Suddenly, everything got very dark. They were in Hanami's room.

"What's this?" Peter said. "You sent me back through time?"

"Shh!" He led Peter to Hanami's bedside. "Just touch her temple here."

Peter reluctantly put his hand on Hanami's head, and she opened her eyes. "Uncle Hiro!"

"Yes, Dear One, it's me."

"Who is this? Is he another friend?"

"That's right. His name is Mr. Petrelli."

"Just call me Peter, please," Peter said.

Future Hiro looked at him hard. "I am trying to teach her respect!"

"Why do you have that line on your face?" Hanami said.

"I was hurt," Peter said. "It was bad. You don't want to hear about it."

Hanami looked at Future Hiro. "I was very good today. I didn't tell Mommy anything, just like you told me to."

"Good girl, Hanami," Hiro responded.

"But this thing inside me, this special thing, I can feel it in me. It feels strong, and . . . it hurts not to use it." (Peter gave Future Hiro a look.) "I don't understand. Why do I have to keep it in? When can I use it?"

"Hanami, you just need to remember what a good friend of mine told me, 'To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose.' I am going to keep helping you make that power strong. One day, when I tell you, you'll be able to use it in front of everyone. On that day, I will take you to the other side of the world, and it will be up to you to find the Circle."

"What's the Circle?"

Peter looked like he was about to talk, but Future Hiro raised his hand. "It's a group of very special people who are a lot like you. They are in many places, but you will be able to find them, and you will know who they are when you meet them. And when you come together, something very special and magical will happen."

"What?"

"You'll see once you find them all."

Gabriel was just taking in that speech, letting it all sink in. He heard them talk more, but he couldn't tell what they were saying. All the pieces started to fall into place. So that's what it meant.

His train of thought was broken when they teleported back to Isaac's loft. "So what was that all for?" Peter asked.

"Because you're part of her forever now. There have been times I've gone to see her, and Rains is there, and I didn't bring him with me. She talks about being with me and Rains all day, but we weren't here with her. I think somehow when we visit her like this, we leave an impression on her mind that nothing can take away. Do you really want to destroy that now that you're part of it?"

Peter shook his head. "It's not forever, man." He walked away. "Remember Charlie!" he called as he walked out.

* * *

They appeared again in feudal Japan at dusk. The shepherd boy was still in the middle of nowhere, still apparently looking for his sheep. He could hear talking and laughing in the distance. As he came closer, he sniffed the air. "Roasted lamb!" He came closer to the sounds, and he saw Whitebeard and select members of his army sitting around a campfire eating mutton. The boy hid himself and took a deep breath. "I can do this. That lord may not have agreed with me, but I must fight for my sheep." Then he stepped out in plain sight. "Wolves! Thieves! You stole my sheep!"

"Kill him," Whitebeard said to the man beside him. The soldier brandished a sword and ran at the boy with a war cry. The boy held out his staff and hit him multiple times with the staff. As he was fighting, the boy and the staff started to glow blue. The boy hardly even noticed; he just kept fighting more vigorously. The camp, however, looked at the boy in fear and retreated.

"Well, you were never told that side of the story, were you Hiro?" Gabriel said. But he looked next to him, and Hiro was not there.

* * *

"Hiro? Hiro, where did you go?" Gabriel suddenly felt disconnected and dizzy. He was in a building all of white. It smelled like a hospital. Everything felt so still, and the silence was deafening. He looked around and saw orderlies, visitors, and patients standing frozen. "What is going on?"

Then he noticed one bit of movement—a door closing. Gabriel went toward the movement. He looked at the sign on the door and read with astonishment, "The Gabriel Bonhomme Autism Research Wing."

He opened the door and saw an empty, white hallway. He could hear footsteps going down the hall and saw a shadow moving on the floor. He continued to follow the movement and the sound. He looked into the rooms he passed, and he saw that the people inside were just as frozen. He lingered at a room that was all dark, but he saw an old man sitting on a bed with his hands on his head. His back was turned from Gabriel, and Gabriel wanted to see closer who he was. But the sound was getting more distant, so Gabriel ran after it.

Somehow, he felt like this place was familiar, but how could he know it? He never knew there was a place named after him. "It kinda looks like the hallway where I saw Hanami in that dream," he thought aloud.

He finally caught up with the sound. It was Future Hiro walking alone in the corridor. "That's why it feels so strange," Gabriel thought aloud. "He must have stopped time. But it doesn't explain why the Hiro I know isn't here." He finally went to the last room in the last hall of the wing. Hiro opened the door, closed his eyes, and time started again. The first thing Gabriel noticed was the voice of someone crying. He got out from behind Hiro and saw a young woman of 16 sitting in a wheelchair and staring into space.

"No! That's not her! That's not Hanami!"

"What are you doing here?" Hiro said coldly.

Gabriel hoped he was talking to the young woman, but then Claude appeared before him. "Nakamura Jr. I'll have you know I have as much right to visit her as anyone else. What about you?"

"I am her uncle. I'm also here to visit her, and I'd prefer it if you'd leave."

"What you here for, nuncle? Here to give her a little present? Something long and sharp and pointy?"

"How'd you know?"

"You've been talking to Pete, haven't you? The sad little empath who refuses to empathize. He doesn't know any better, or perhaps he does and he doesn't want to admit it. But in those dreams I've been seeing, she hasn't forgotten us! She looks entirely different, like an angel almost. I'm sure you've had dreams like that too."

"But Peter might be right. Maybe she is suffering. And what good is she to us in this state?"

"I thought we were going to change that!"

"Can we really change anything?"

"Of course you can! You're a time traveler! Don't you ever watch 'Dr. Who'?"

"Who's Dr. Who?"

"Oh, you poor, deprived soul."

"Eleven years ago, I tried to save the life of a waitress named Charlie. She was killed by Sylar. I went back in time to try to get her away from that event, only to learn that she was going to die from a clot in her brain. No matter what time traveling I did, I could not save her. I starting to fear that this is the same. Even if I do help Hanami control her powers and find the Circle, it may still take over and leave her worse than before."

"Not worse than dead."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Think about your hero, Takezo Kensei. He gave his life before an innocent woman could be sacrificed, with that very blade which you now wield. Are you going to let her innocent blood tarnish that blade?"

Hiro shook his head slowly. "No. I couldn't. I didn't really think I could. I just thought I'd try. What can we do now?"

"Well, we can guide them along a little bit more. I think we can use her."

"How?"

"I got some ideas. And what about him?" He nodded his head to the side.

Hiro looked in that direction. "I haven't really thought about him. But he has everything he ever wanted."

"I wouldn't say that. Why don't you go over there, say hi?"

Hiro walked cautiously over to the other side of the room. Gabriel followed him. There was a rocking chair turned toward a window, and someone was sitting in it, rocking slowly. As Hiro got closer, he heard the person mumbling, "Red. Blue. Orange. Green. Purple. Pink. Yellow. Brown."

"That's all he talks about, now?" Hiro said.

"Yeah," Claude said. "Remember when we couldn't get him to shut up?"

"Is this . . ." Gabriel whispered in awe.

"Saying them won't bring them back, Gabriel," Hiro said coldly.

Future Gabriel only answered by continuing to mutter, "Black. Turquoise. Fusca. Lavender. Burgundy. Gray."

"Do you hear me?" Hiro said as he pushed Future Gabriel's shoulder. Future Gabriel responded by screaming. He clutched his right hand firmly to his chest. Present Gabriel looked closer to see that his right hand was holding something so tightly that his right hand was as white as a piece of paper. All that was seen in that hand was a ribbon hanging out.

Hiro tried to restrain him, and Claude joined him. "Will you quit it, man? We don't want your little trinket!" Claude yelled. "You're the one who earned it anyway!"

The young man slowly and reluctantly started to calm down. As Present Gabriel watched him, something strange happened. His own palm felt sweaty and hot. He closed his hand into a fist, and he could feel something smooth in his hands. His skin could then feel an engraved inscription.

"N-O-B-E-L-P-R-I-Z-E"

He got it. He got what he always wished for, and this is what it led to. Then what in the window caught his eye. It was Paris, but it was so dilapidated he couldn't recognize it. Even the Eiffel Tower in the distance seemed to be crumbling.

And then, everything faded away.

To be continued . . .


	17. The Circle

Chapter 17: The Circle

Pyramid Lake Reservation, Nevada

Gabriel found himself staring at the fire again. He was back in the room with Sanjong. "I hope you have your answer now," the shaman said.

"Where's Hiro?" Gabriel asked.

"He grew too upset and wished not to see anymore. Besides, it was better you saw those final visions alone. You were the only one that could understand what they were really about. Your friend is waiting for you outside."

Gabriel sighed and rubbed his head.

"Are you alright?"

"Oui, I just feel a little disoriented." He stood up and walked around a little. Finally, he looked at Sanjong. "With all due respect, shaman, I feel as though I didn't learn what I was wanting to learn. There wasn't enough in those visions about exactly what the Circle is, how to find it, or why it's so important."

"You have that answer which you seek. It is in you."

"Then why don't I see it?"

"Here. Let me show you a few more things." Gabriel sat down, and Sanjong touched his head. The scenes that Sanjong showed him were briefer, and Gabriel recognized all of them. But they all brought things together for him.

"Ah, c'est ca! Merci beaucoup pour tour le monde!" (Thank you very much for everything, literally, for all the world.)

"Your friends are waiting for you."

"Mes amis? Plural?" He walked through the animal skin curtain and saw Hiro sitting there waiting for him, and also Mohinder, Peter, Michael, the spy, Claire, Harmony, and Hanami (who looked like she was cradled, so perhaps Claude was there too). "What are all of you doing here?"

"I told you not to leave!" Peter snapped.

"Non, you told me not to look for the Circle. I went to hear Mohinder speak."

"That meant not to leave!"

"It's true, Peter," Mohinder spoke up.

"Sorry mate, it was my logic," Claude's voice said.

Claire looked around. "Who said that?"

An exasperated sigh was her answer. "Did it again," someone said under his breath.

"It's alright, Claude," Bennet said. "We're all allies here."

Claude took a deep breath and made himself visible. Claire took a closer look at him. "Uncle Claude?"

Claude managed a smile. "Still collecting teddy bears, love?"

"Where've you been all this time?"

"Why don't you ask your dad?"

Claire caught his tone. "Oh, never mind."

Meanwhile, Gabriel approached Hiro. "When did all these people get here?" he asked.

"I don't know!" Hiro said. "They were out here when I came here, and they were looking for you."

"Alright, that's completely backwards," Claire said. "Now you're speaking Japanese" (she pointed to Gabriel), "and you're speaking French?" (She pointed to Hiro.)

"Actually, he's speaking Japanese," Gabriel said. "He's really speaking Japanese, and I understand him."

"I have his powers!" Hiro told her.

"What did he say?" Claire said.

"He said he has my pow–wait, if you have my powers, how come she didn't understand you?"

"Maybe it's just you two," Bennet said. "Maybe you two understand each other, and not just on the language level."

"It's true!" Hiro said. "I understand a lot more about Gabriel!"

"But I . . . still don't feel like I understand you," Gabriel said.

"That's OK."

"It's a good sign," Bennet said. "It shows your powers are growing."

"Yeah, and I like your look, lad," Claude said. "It's like Charlton Heston in more than one film."

"Nice tan," Claire added.

"Well the hat's just to keep me cool," Gabriel said, "but this staff is like my relic. It focuses my–wait, I need to tell all of you everything." He stood up in front of them. "I know what the Circle is. It was in front of me all along!"

"So you really were looking for it?" Peter asked.

"Non, it's more like it found, and I didn't even know it?"

"What do you mean?" Mohinder asked.

"A rainbow is a circle. We only think it's an arch and that it has an end because we only see part of it. Just a few days ago, there was a rainbow around the moon in Japan!" He looked at Hiro.

"So?" Claude retorted.

"You know, a rainbow!" He pointed to his shirt. "Spectrum!"

"You're really losing me."

"I think I see what he's trying to say," Mohinder said. "It has to do with autistic disorders, right?" Gabriel nodded. Mohinder looked up in and addressed them all. "From what I understand, there are several disorders considered to be autism. It's called the autistic spectrum. Some are more severe, such as Kanner's Syndrome or Rett's Syndrome, some are milder like Asperger's Syndrome, and some are in the middle, like Pervasive Developmental Disorder Not Otherwise Specified. My father theorized that the evolution gene interacts with autism in a unique way and makes it possible to manifest it in different ways."

"Oui, c'est ca! Every time I came in contact with someone autistic who exhibited the same kind of abilities your father discussed, we would both glow a different color."

"I remember that, when you hugged me," Michael said. "And there was this awful ringing in my ears."

"Oui, and what's more we knew each other. I knew for sure it was you, and you knew it was me. When I met that boy Gavin, the boy who was killed–"

"Gavin was killed?" Claire cried. "When did that happen?"

"Don't remind me, please."

"We'll talk about it later," Bennet said.

"Anyway when I met him, I could feel how sad and lonely he was. I'm sure it has everything to do with what the Circle is."

"So, you're saying the glow is the autism made visual?" Peter said.

"And that's why there are different colors, different autistic disorders," Gabriel added. "Harmony is red because she's most severe, and I'm blue because I'm the least severe, the end of the spectrum."

"So the Circle is when all of you get together."

"I think so."

"And what will happen?"

"I don't know. A few times when I'm in distress and called out for help, I think I somehow shared powers with others on the spectrum."

"Oh, I remember when you called out for help, I heard you, and I saw a blue light in the sky!" Michael said.

"That's like my dreams I had when I found myself here. I was coming to find you!"

"But how can it work as a full spectrum?" Michael asked. "We have red, yellow, green, and blue. What about orange?"

"I don't know. It would have to be someone not as severe as Harmony but more severe than Hanami. Maybe someone with Fragile X or Rett's Syndrome."

"I know just the person," Bennet spoke up. "Her name's Allison O'Brien."

"No!" Michael screamed.

"It's ok. I think she's on our side now, or at least she's coming around."

"Good, that takes care of it then," Gabriel said.

"Well, don't you remember the mnemonic device, Roy G. Biv?" Peter said. "Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, INDIGO, VIOLET!"

"Indigo doesn't count. It's just an in-between color like red-orange or yellow-green."

"Then why is it--?"

"It makes the mnemonic work. Can't be Roy G. BV, can it? As for violet, I've been thinking about it. I was confused because I thought Asperger's was the end of the spectrum, and so logically my color should be purple, not blue. But then I thought, purple really isn't the end of the spectrum because there is no end. It just unites blue to the beginning. Purple is NT."

"NT?" Bennet said

"Neurologically Typical. Normal in Layman's terms" Claude told him. "Huh, surprised I knew something before you did."

"So it can be any of us?" Peter said.

"I'll do it!" Hiro said eagerly. "I'll be in the Circle! I'll be happy to do it, for Hanami and for you, my friend."

Gabriel smiled at him. "Yes, Hiro, you are my friend, and I would be honored if you were in the Circle. But I don't think you're the one."

"Then let me," Mohinder said. "I want to be part of it, so I can understand more about you first hand."

"Again, Mohinder, it would be an honor, but it's not you either."

"Then I'll do it," Bennet said. "This is what my life has been leading up to. I've done everything to protect all of you, to understand you, and I'll do anything to keep you from the fate the Company wants."

"Sorry monsieur, non."

"Fine! I'll do it!" Claude said. "I know, you'll have to grope for me hand, but uh . . . I have respect for all you. You see the unseen, and . . . well, I kinda want to see what you see."

"You don't understand!" Gabriel said loudly. "I'm not saying you're not going to be a part of this. I'm sure there's going to be a role for all of you. But the person to take purple's role in the Circle isn't just any NT. It's definitely admirable that all of you want to understand us on such a level, but you have to understand. It's beyond that. Purple is a conduit, a channel, to blend one end of the spectrum with the other. There's only one person in this room that can do that." Gabriel slowly walked across the room to that person and looked him in the eyes. "It's you, Peter."

"Me?" he said softly.

Gabriel nodded. "You're the one we need. Can you do it? Will you do it?"

Peter nodded. "Of course," he whispered.

"Then we better start getting ready," Hiro said.

"What, now?"

"The sooner we get the Circle together, the sooner Hanami and I can go home."

"And Gabriel and I can go home," Michael said.

"I know just the place where you can meet," Bennet said. "I'll get Allison on board."

"But we don't even know what will happen!" Peter yelled. No one listened to him.

* * *

Primatech Papers

Candace came into Franklin's office. "So, what have you found?"

"Not much, sir. I couldn't get a straight answer out of Mrs. Miller where her daughter is, not even when I assumed the appearance of her husband. She probably doesn't even know where Harmony is, but she's still hiding something back."

"What about Allison?"

"She's not answering her cell. I don't know what else to do."

"You do so! She has a tracking device."

"Yeah, but since the satellite's been destroyed, that's been kinda unreliable, has it?"

"She's part of Operation Northpoint, our first and most successful patient to date. I got extra tabs on her."

"I didn't know that, sir."

"I've been checking on her. She's not far. In fact, she's still in the area. We can locate her shortly. In the meantime, I got a location on both the Bonhommes, and according to Molly Walker, the Japanese girl is with them too."

"So, they're all together?"

"That's good. We can kill at least three birds with one stone."

"Yeah, I guess it is. We need to round them all up, huh?"

"And we'll do it in style. Follow me to the roof, my dear." They went up there and found a helicopter.

* * *

New York City

Sylar was sitting in Issac's loft staring at that magnificent painting he made about a week ago of the glowing people standing in a circle. He was trying to understand what it was or when it will happen. His most unusual painting was that of his namesake hitting what looked like a Japanese samurai with a shepherd's hook. Gradually, though, he devised some portraits that informed him of the time and place. "It's tonight! I better get moving," he whispered. On his way out, he stopped and stared at one of the portraits he made of Gabriel. "Sorry, namesake. I didn't want to hurt you, but this time I'm going to crush you like escargot."

* * *

Odessa, Texas

Alison had been waiting for Bennet to come back and just contemplating what she was told and what she experienced the other day. She felt so confused. She knew what Northpoint did was good for her, but she felt like something valuable that she once had was taken away.

Suddenly, her phone rang. "Hello?"

Bennet was on the other line. "Allison, have you been thinking about what we've been telling you?"

"Yes sir."

"I have an opportunity for you. It's one of opposition against the Company, but it can really help some kids out. Meet us at the City Hall in San Antonio tonight."

"What's going to happen?"

"Something incredible, as far as I can tell."

"I'll be there." She hung up, then she dialed.

"Hello?"

"Franklin, this is Allison. I just got a call from Bennet. Something is happening tonight at the San Antonio City Hall, and I'm going to be part of it. I'll be on the inside. I'll know exactly what's happening, what they're doing."

"Excellent, dear. We will intercept you that evening and bring this down. Thank you for the news."

"No, thank you."

* * *

Mohinder was following the Bennets in his rental car. The Bonhommes and Peter was with him.

"You know, Peter, I was wondering if I could be wrong about your family name," Michael spoke after a long time of silence.

"How's that?" Peter asked.

"Well, I remember that you didn't tell me directly your last name, just your first, when we met, when you called me the Piano Man."

"Yeah?"

"I think I may have overheard or seen somewhere that your last name is 'Petrelli.'"

"Well, it is."

"Alright. It's just that I've been second guessing that final initial after what has happened these past few days, wondering if that 'P' stood for something else."

"What would that be?"

"Pan."

Once Gabriel put that together, he burst out laughing. Peter laughed a little too, but then he stopped and said, "OK, just in case you haven't noticed, I have grown up."

"Oh, bien sur."

"But just to let you know, you're not the first person to accuse me of that."

"Why do you say that, Papa?" Gabriel asked.

Michael looked back at him with a grin and whispered, "Il vole." (He flies.)

Gabriel looked at Peter. "Really?"

"Yeah, among other things."

Michael sighed and looked out the window. Then he asked Mohinder, "If you don't mind me asking, I just want to check. Do you mind if we passengers share a personal conversation?"

"I drive a taxi. I'm used to it.

"Oh, right, merci."

"Is this about Mom?" Peter said.

"Yes, it is."

"She's not evil, Professor. She's got good qualities."

"Name one!"

"Well, she has a good smile."

"She never smiled at me, unless she was planning something."

"And she's very caring."

"To the people she cares about, and even the ones she cares about, she . . ."

"Yes?"

"I don't want to say it in front of you."

"I can take it."

He sighed, "I think she killed my wife."

"Papa!" Gabriel cried.

"What brings that on?" Peter said.

"She lied to me. She told me Ruth killed herself. When you brought her to me somehow, she said she didn't and that Angela didn't want us together."

"Father, we may never know how Mama died," Gabriel interjected. "There's no reason to blame Peter's mother without more credible evidence. Besides, I think Peter tried to save her life."

"Huh?" Michael and Peter said at the same time.

"It was something Sanjong showed me. When you met Mama, she was depressed, and you said you wish you could take her sadness away. You did, didn't you?"

"You know what? I completely forgot about that. After she left, I started crying, and I couldn't stop. Mom took me to see three psychiatrists. The weird thing was I didn't feel sad. Inside, I felt pretty good, and I couldn't explain why I was crying. About a month later, Mom told me that Ruth was dead. I felt sad then, but I was all out of energy. I couldn't cry anymore. I just thought about that one time I saw her, thinking that that was the last time I ever got to see her, got to talk to her. Nathan didn't remember her at all. And I couldn't remember all that I said." He sighed and tried to choke back tears. "You know, Gabriel, when we thought that your father was dead, Mom went to Paris intending to bring you back. She wanted you to live with Nathan, because he had a family, but I wanted you with me. Because I remembered you, and I wanted to get to know you. And I'm sorry you didn't come then."

"And I didn't want to go to America. I didn't want things to change. I was angry Papa died, and I was angry at her, and I was angry at America. I'm sorry I didn't get to know you then either."

"It's alright. I understand. I'm just glad I got to know you now, and I didn't even know then that it was you. But I got to ask you some things. It's not that I'm backing out, but I got a couple of questions," Peter said.

"What is it?"

"Why me? Why were you so particular anyway? Why couldn't it be Hiro or Mohinder or Claude? What is it about me that sets me apart in this?"

"It was something I somehow knew the first day I met you. Remember when I heard you were absorbing my ability I thought you were stealing it, and you said--"

"We're sharing it."

"Yeah. We're sharing more than you realize. When you asked Papa how he created those effects when he played, the colors, scents, tastes, you were describing a synesthetic reaction. Papa and I both have synesthesia, and now you have it too."

"What's synesthesia?"

"It's when your senses get mixed up. It's a common symptom with spectrum disorders, one of my favorite symptoms actually, makes life more interesting."

"There are other things, too, my memory, my sudden knowledge of how to play the piano, my unexplained desire to read."

"I didn't know about those, but you see? You're one of us, without being one of us. You're exactly what I want to be. You have the best parts of this . . . condition and none of the negatives."

"Well, that's nice, but I have another question."

"Go ahead."

"Why are we jumping head first into this whole Circle thing?"

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but . . . it's destiny. It'll change the world, I think, I hope."

"That's not good enough. See, I was just like you a year ago, pursuing destiny. Do you know where it got me?"

"Well, the way Hiro talks about you, it made you great. It made you a real hero. You saved New York!"

Peter shook his head. "I nearly destroyed New York. I absorbed so much power I almost exploded."

"What? C'ette impossible!"

"Yeah, well it's true. I don't really want to think about it. So many memories, I'd rather forget. What I'm saying is we can't do this without checking all the facts. We might make things worse!"

"Well, what do we do in the meantime? Sit on our hands? Wait for Sylar to kill us? Let us be taken to Northpoint? You know Papa wouldn't want to go back there. I don't want to go. I thought it was Hell. Think about how it would be for Hanami, or for Harmony, or for me. If we don't do anything, that's where we're going. I saw Paris in the future, nothing more than a smoking hole in the ground."

"Hey, I saw New York as a smoking hole in the ground. That's not enough either."

"I bet you didn't see yourself sitting in a corner in a wheelchair, barely able to talk, completely brain fried. That's what Northpoint did to me. I know it was because I was there that the world was no more than a wasteland. Don't ask me how I know, I just know. I don't want it to happen. The Circle will change that."

"How do you know? You can't go on a hunch."

"What else can I go on?"

Peter sighed. They were silent for a while.

"Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"There was something else I was thinking about. I haven't sleepwalked in four years. It was a problem just after I heard that my father was dead, but then it stopped. I thought it was because of the medicine I was taking, but it's really because I was shutting my ears to Papa's call. Sanjong didn't only show me the future. He showed me you with him. He showed me when you were having nightmares, when he was in your apartment. I saw you screaming in your sleep. I had the dreams again when he was in New York, with you. You had his dreams, and somehow you passed them over to me. I may never know how I got here. The only way I can rationalize it was that you were using your powers to bring me back to my father."

"How do you know that?"

"It was just something Monsieur Rains said in one of the visions. He called you the 'empath who refused to empathize,' but in my opinion, you empathize better than anyone I know, and definitely better than I ever could."

Peter shrugged. "I don't know half of what Claude says anyway."

"Claude. Claude Rains. Why does that sound familiar?"

Peter's cellphone rang. "Yeah? . . . Uh-huh . . . OK, thanks." He hung up. "We're here."

* * *

The City Hall was a large, round building. When they came in, it was very dark. All Gabriel could see was a large mosaic of the state seal on the floor.

"Why this place?" Peter asked.

"I don't know," Bennet answered. "It was close enough, big enough, safe, and there aren't much people here at this time of day. Allison, over here." A dark haired, tall woman approached them. "Alright, we got everybody. Claire, I think it's best that you watch Harmony. I'm going to stand guard." He cocked a very unique-looking handgun.

"What should I do?" Mohinder asked.

"Here." Bennet passed him his cellphone. "It's got a digital video camera. You can document it."

"Well, this is it," Gabriel said. "We're all here. We're together. All of us."

"Yeah," Peter whispered.

Just looking around at everyone made Gabriel's head spin. It maybe just a coincidence, but they were already standing in order, already kinda in a circle around the seal.

"Why do I feel scared all the sudden?"

"You feel scared?" Peter chuckled. "You have some clue what's going to happen. I don't!"

"I do?"

"You're the one who did the whole hand glowing thing. You know what that's like."

"That's true."

Harmony loudly moaned.

"Well, look on the bright side," he heard Claude say. "At least you're not as scared as that little bird."

"I'm scared too, Uncle Hiro," Hanami said.

"Don't worry. I'm right here with you," he answered as he put his hand on her shoulder.

She felt another hand on her other shoulder. "It will be fine, my Dear One," she heard him say.

"Hanami, look at me."

"I am," she replied, though she was looking in the other direction.

"Why don't we just get this over with?" Allison said.

"You're right," Gabriel said. "Monsieur Rains, can you hold this for me?" He held out his shepherd's staff.

"Do I look like a bin?" Claude sneered.

"Honestly, you don't, but you're the only one who has his hands free." He heard Claude sigh, and the staff was taken out of his hand.

"You probably ought to move," Peter said.

"Hey, he said he wanted me in the middle of things!" Claude yelled back. "Make up your mind!"

"Let's not worry about it," Michael said.

Gabriel took a deep breath. "Alright. On y va."

Claire took Harmony and put it in Allison's hand.

Allison looked down at her hand in curiosity. She only remembered this sensation once before. Hanami then took her other hand.

Then she took Michael's hand.

Michael took Gabriel's hand.

Gabriel reached out for Harmony.

Peter came in between them and grabbed both of their hands.

All at once, all of them fiercely glowed their respective colors, each as bright as a neon sign. The hum in their ears became unbearable. In their hearts burned an energy that couldn't be contained. Still, it was an emotion that was hard to describe. It made Gabriel's skin tingle and itch. All of his senses were hyper-stimulated. He felt such overwhelming joy that it almost felt painful. To Peter, it was too much to take in. He knew it was wonderful, but he also felt afraid and confused. So did Allison. It almost felt like some of the things she experienced when she was a child, but it didn't feel bad.

Suddenly, there was another colorful light coming from inside the circle. Gabriel saw that Claude had appeared, and the staff was changing colors, starting from the engraved symbol. "What the heck is this thing doing?" Claude yelled.

* * *

The helicopter from Primatech Papers landed on the building's roof. Franklin got off and looked at a device in his cellphone. "Look at the brain activity here! They are really up to something. It's almost off the chart." He looked back and saw Candace wasn't right behind him. She was still just getting off the helicopter, and she was rubbing her head. "Alright there, Candace?"

"I'm kinda dizzy," she mumbled.

"You probably just need to find your land legs again. Let's go."

* * *

Sylar was already inside, standing in an overlook several floors above. He could see the brilliant colors, just like in the picture. He could almost smell it. His tongue glided across his lips. He never seen any other mind riper for the harvesting. He ran for the elevator.

* * *

Hanami fell to her knees. "It's ok, Dear One," she heard her uncle say. "You're doing great. Just a little longer."

"Yeah, just hang in there, love," a familiar voice said behind her.

Claude looked toward her direction and saw future Hiro and his future self. "Great, now I'm seeing things," he said. At that instant, the staff glowed a brilliant white light. Claude screamed and fell to his knees. "MY EYES!"

"I'll help you!" Present Hiro ducked down under the arms and joined Claude.

"Oh, this is just perfect," Claude said as he covered his eyes with his free hand. "I'm going blind. Now I won't be able to see myself."

Hiro took hold of the staff and stood in front of him. Claude, noticing a shadow, removed his hand. Hiro grinned and flashed him a "Live Long and Prosper" sign. "Konnichiwa," he said bashfully.

"Thanks mate."

"I wonder if this will do anything." He drew his sword and matched it up with the symbol. The white light emanating from the staff flooded down the blade. "Oh."

"Well, what is it doing?"

"I have no idea."

* * *

Franklin and Candace made it to the elevator. "Great, it's in use. We'll have to take the stairs." Candace groaned and collapsed. "Come on, girl, hup, hup!"

"Oh, my head is–"

"This is far more important than your pretty, little head. Come!"

But as soon as she got to the stairs, Candace felt terribly nauseous. She leaned against the rail and tried to catch her breath. Then, she looked at her pretty, slender hand, and it started to puff out. Her fingernails all turned black and long, and her skin became pale and warty. "No," she said grabbing her hand. "No, no, no!"

* * *

The feeling seemed to be changing. Peter looked down and saw his hand changing colors. The others were fading into other colors, too. It was very strange. It felt more energizing and strengthening and yet draining at the same time.

The staff and the sword were still glowing white. Hiro held on, but he stayed in front Claude to protect his eyes.

"You figured out what this is about yet?" Claude asked.

"It's like . . . prism!" Hiro replied as soon as he thought of the right word.

"Prison?"

"Prism! You know, like . . ." He pointed to Gabriel's shirt.

"Oh, prism! It's working in reverse?"

"I think so. It's a prism for chi."

"Cheese?"

"Chi! Their chi!"

Claude couldn't remember exactly what chi was, but he wondered about the idea of this being a prism, bending light. Could that be why they see him? Only one way to find out. "Right then, Pollyanna, let's bend some chi."

* * *

Sylar had gotten off the elevator, but he was hesitant to step off as he came close. This felt strong, even to him. He had to come in at just the right moment, when they were most vulnerable.

* * *

"What's taking you, woman?" Franklin yelled at Candace as she remained at the top of the stairs. She hand her hand over her face, and her hair, skin, and clothes were all fluctuating in appearance.

"It's my power. I can't control it."

"Is that all? Is that's what making you ill?"

Candace nodded.

"Well, if that's it, then let it go! I don't care how you look if you help me catch these kids."

"You don't understand. If I alter my appearance, it will alter my performance as well."

"Like I said, I don't care. You have to help me. We're running out of time."

Franklin turned around and ran down the stairs as quickly as he could, but as soon as he got down, he was met with a gun at the head. "You take one more step, Franklin, and I'll shoot," Bennet said firmly.

Franklin held his hands up. "Well, if it isn't my Yankee doppleganger. I wouldn't advise that, Bennet. I've worked with people like this for years. They're very sensitive to loud noises. You shoot, and they might melt down. They're clearly doing something fantastic in there. That would certainly ruin things."

"I'm willing to risk it if it means protecting them from you."

"Are you really?" Franklin then pulled out his own gun. "How about we increase the volume, then? I shoot, then you shoot. Of course, you can't be sure that this is me. I'm with Candace, after all. I'm sure you remember her. How can you be sure that you're talking to who you think you're talking to?"

Suddenly, there was heavy panting. Just coming down the stairs was a huge young woman all in black with acne and warts. She was huffing like she was having as asthma attack.

"That's Candace?" Bennet asked.

"Do be a dear and distract him somehow," Franklin asked.

Betty punched Bennet in the back of the head so that he fell over.

"That'll do."

* * *

The colors were just starting to fade. The sword and the staff even dimmed. Everybody standing in the Circle was starting to think that it had done all that it was going to do. Just then, Franklin came up behind them. Gabriel looked at him, and he remembered him. It was the man he saw in L.A. "The spy. The real one."

"Well, I'm glad to see all of you together, already engaging in a somewhat social bond. You're going to be together for a long time now, perhaps even the rest of your lives." Betty ran up and joined him. "Candace, dear, let's take them."

And then, there was a cry. It was, not surprisingly, from Harmony who was pretty much moaning the whole time, but what was surprising was that it almost sounded like a word.

"nnnnnnnnNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Her scream echoed through the rotunda, and as it did, it filled all the others with new courage.

"No!" Michael replied.

"Non!" Gabriel yelled.

"No!" Claire pleaded.

"No!" Peter shouted..

"No!" Hanami screamed.

"No!" Mohinder howled.

"No! Bennet ordered.

"No!" Claude and Hiro roared together.

"No," Allison said defiantly.

"No," Betty whispered, immediately covering her mouth with her hand and wondering why she said it.

Franklin laughed. "That wasn't a question, and even if it was, the answer is still 'yes.'"

"We're not going," Gabriel said. "You can't make us."

"Can't I? Why don't you want to go?"

"Because we know what you will do," Michael said.

"You only know what you think you know. Don't you realize that we know more about your disease than anyone in the world?"

"It not a disease!" Gabriel yelled. "When will you NTs learn, we are not sick! We're just not like you, and it drives you crazy!"

"I think there's someone among you who will disagree, wouldn't you Allison?"

A lot of people looked angrily in Bennet's direction. He was the one who said Allison had changed. Still, she looked up at him and said, "I don't, Franklin."

"We improved you, Allison, gave you a life, pulled you out of a nightmare. Didn't you tell us you owed us a debt?"

"For what? You took something from me. I haven't found it until now, and I won't let you take it again!"

"Go away! Leave us alone!" Hanami yelled. She pointed at him, and soon everyone in the Circle pointed at Franklin. There was suddenly a flash of light, and he and Betty vanished.

Peter then sat down. "Oh, my head is swimming."

"Oui. I feel tired," Gabriel nodded as he also sat down.

"That's the kinda stuff you experience every day?" Peter asked.

"I guess."

"Wow."

"It's one way to clean the sinuses," Claude said. He handed the staff back to Gabriel. "Here's your stick back."

"How come I can still see you?" Gabriel said.

Claude shrugged. "That's what I'd like to know."

"Oh, what just happened?" Allison sighed.

"We didn't kill him, did we?" Michael said.

"No," Hanami said.

"We all wanted him gone," Gabriel thought aloud.

"Yeah," Peter nodded, "and . . . we got what we wanted in the end."

"So, it's like we wished him away," Michael said.

"Is that what the Circle did?" Gabriel said.

"Maybe, or maybe now you all share the same power. I felt some kind of transfer through me."

"That's right. We needed a circuit. So we are all the same?"

"What a shame," Gabriel heard a voice say in a dark whisper. "I was so looking forward to a feast. Well, which of them is the most vulnerable?" Gabriel frantically scanned the room to see who was speaking until he saw a silhouette standing in the doorway. He started walking toward them, and then he pointed to Hanami. "YOU!"

Almost instantly, Gabriel intercepted the intruder and struck him hard with the staff. "Get away from her, wolf!"

Gabriel hit him over and over again with the staff, harder each time. "Going to kill me, namesake?" he said weakly.

"QUIT-CALLING-ME-THAT!" Gabriel yelled as he continued to strike. "I-HAVE-NOTHING-TO-DO-WITH-YOU. AND-YOU-HAVE-NOTHING-TO-DO-WITH-ANGELS!"

But Sylar smiled. "You can't. You're not strong enough. You haven't even cracked any of my bones. That's what you're little gift got you."

"Gabriel, hand-over-hand, hand-over-hand!" Hiro screamed. Gabriel nodded, remembering that very successful technique he learned from his friend. He started to spin the staff so that he hit Sylar rapidly. Gabriel was amazed at the strength he had now, and he kinda wished he had it when he was bullied in school. Sylar seemed like the ultimate bully, so Gabriel just kept pounding him until Sylar was flat on his back, bruised and bloody.

Gabriel raised his staff to strike once more, but he stopped. Even he couldn't understand why he hesitated. Perhaps looking down at Sylar in this state made him feel guilty and wonder if he had gone too far. Maybe he felt tired and paused to catch his breath. Maybe Sylar's powers held him back. All he knew was that he soon realized how much a mistake it was to pause, because then Sylar gave a very demonic grin. "Don't worry, I'll relieve you of your gift, once and for all. Au revoir." And with a weak, shaky hand he pointed to Gabriel's forehead . . .

And nothing happened.

Sylar's smile faded. "What's going on?" He traced Gabriel's hairline numerous times, and still nothing. "Why isn't it working?" he asked in frustration.

"Don't you know?" a young voice said next to him. He turned his eyes to the side and saw the same boy who encouraged him to murder him. He knew it was a mistake to kill that boy. "This is our revenge."

WHAM! Gabriel hit again and again until Sylar's eyes shut and he stopped fighting back.

"Is he dead?" he heard Peter call.

"I don't think so. If Hiro couldn't manage to kill him with a sword, I don't think I killed him."

"Well, at least this time, we'll arrange it so he won't scuttle off like the cockroach he is," Bennet said darkly.

"What are we going to do with him, Dad?" Claire said. "We can't take him home, and we can't give him over to the Company."

"That's a good question. The Haitian could probably watch him."

"The Haitian! Of course. He could overpower Sylar, and he won't be able to use his powers, and maybe he can make Sylar forget he was a murderer."

"I wouldn't get too hopeful, Claire. Sylar's a crafty one."

Gabriel, wondering why he was still staring at the killer's body, turned away. He ran back to the others. "We did it!" he cried. "We changed the world! We are heroes! We–"

But as he got closer, he realized that something was wrong. There was no longer anything close to a circle, more like a cluster of people, gathered around something. And then as he came even closer, he understood why. Claude, still visible, was sitting on the ground saying very quietly, "Come on, love, snap out of it." Hanami was cradled in his lap, unconscious and looking very pale.

"What happened?"

"She was weak the whole time," Hiro answered. "When Sylar went after her, she just . . . collapsed."

"Why?"

"Maybe it was too much for her. Maybe she was too young."

"You're the one who sent her here. How could you forget that this would happen?"

"It wasn't supposed to happen." Gabriel looked up to see Future Hiro who said these words. "I can't explain it."

"I'm sure she'll be fine, son," Michael said. "She probably just fainted."

"I don't know, mate," Claude answered. "Her pulse is very low. She could be a goner."

"No!" Gabriel dove down to her side. "Hanami! Ma cherie, you must wake up!"

Claude pushed him away. "You think getting in her face and screaming is going to help?"

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm not yelling my 'ead off, that's for sure. Give her some air, maybe a gulp o' water do her good."

"Why do you even care about her, you misanthrope?"

"I don't know. Maybe there's a soft spot in my heart after all."

"Let me help her," a calm voice said behind them. Gabriel looked up and saw future Peter standing there.

"What could you do?" Future Hiro said skeptically.

"A little while ago, I met someone, and . . . I think I can help." He knelt down, and again Gabriel could clearly see that scar slashed across his face and wondered what happened. Peter grinned. "Claude . . . long time no see."

"That's not funny, mate," he muttered, but Peter chuckled anyway, clearly glad that the shoe was on the other foot. "What's that on your face? Did you get a tattoo? I mean, how else would you get a sc–?"

"Shhh," Peter gently hissed. He had his hand on Hanami's head now, stroking her hair. He closed his eyes and put his palm against her cheek. Slowly, color began to return to it, and she sleepily opened her eyes.

"Alright there, love?" Claude asked.

"Hai," she whispered.

Hiro knelt down to her. "How do you feel, Hanami?"

"Like a Heartless got me," she replied. "He was the boss, wasn't he?"

"Yeah."

"Why couldn't I fight the boss?"

"It's ok, Hanami. You did fine. There will be other bosses, and you will be stronger." He took her out of Claude's arms. "Why don't I take you home?"

"Hai," she said again.

Suddenly in the middle of all this, Gabriel started snickering as he was looking at Claude. "What?" Claude finally asked, tremendously annoyed.

"I just put it together. Claude Rains?" He chuckled again. "That's very clever. I remember I read it in an encyclopedia. Claude Rains was an actor!" He chuckled even harder. "He was H G. Welles's Invisible Man in a play! It's just so amusant how that fits!"

"Yeah, don't you know a pseudonym when you hear it?"

Gabriel stopped short of laughing. "Oh." He got up and saw Hiro walking away alone with Hanami in his arms, and Hiro closed his eyes. "Wait, you're not leaving now, are you?" Gabriel said. "Aren't we even going to get to say 'adieu?'"

"She might need some rest," present Peter said.

"But I have to take her back before her birthday, so it would be like none of this ever happened, and I won't get in trouble, and my sister won't be mad at me, and–"

Just then, there was a buzzing noise coming from Peter's pocket. He reached in and pulled out a cellphone. "Oh. Sorry, I still had your phone. I forgot about it." He handed it over to Hiro. "Looks like you got a text message."

Hiro put Hanami down and opened his phone. "It's from Father," he said. "He wants to meet me at the San Antonio airport tomorrow morning. It says, 'Bring the others.'"

"Mmmm, busted," Claude said quietly.

To be continued . . .


	18. Epilogue: 1 in 150

Epilogue: 1 in 150

Big Thicket Motel–San Antonio Texas

Gabriel couldn't sleep that night. Partly it was because he and his father were back in a motel, and he always had difficulty sleeping in a strange place. Partly because his mind was still racing from the rush of being part of the Circle. But mostly it was because he was worried. He started to turn over in his head what Linderman told him.

"So Gabriel, tell me, what do you want to do with your life?"

"I want to win the Nobel."

"Ah, very ambitious, very noble calling, if I must say so. But are you so sure that you are going to get there?"

"Of course I am. If I want it badly enough, I can do it."

"Let me tell you something about that, young man. Last year, I wanted something very badly. I wanted to change the world forever. But at the last minute, everything fell apart, and the world is no different than it was yesterday."

How could he know that what happened changed anything? In his heart of heart of hearts, he knew he had, but the rest of him knew that nothing was different. The world is still the same. How could he be certain that what happened today would end the disaster he glimpsed? As he kept thinking about it, there were things that indicated that the Circle happened in that future. The strands of colored yarn crossing at that one point was an indication. But it didn't change anything. The future was still miserable. Though Gabriel had the Nobel, the world was worse off than before.

Then his mind drifted to another memory, a happier one, actually one of his favorites. He and his father were walking along a beach. Gabriel had flip-flops on because it was a pebble beach and the rocks hurt his feet. He was just a boy liking an ice cream cone and talking to his father about school. And he asked his father a question. He wasn't exactly sure what it was anymore. He was just questioning why all his friends were excited about this one star athlete when he thought it was nothing special.

Then Michael sat down. "Gabriel, there's something you need to understand. You're not like everyone else. You're different."

"What do you mean, Papa?"

"I can't tell you exactly right now. You wouldn't understand everything. You think and you act in a way most other boys your age don't."

"Why?"

"Because I'm different, too. When you were born, I gave what made me different to you. But listen, Gabriel. I don't want you ever to be ashamed of it. Don't let anyone ever make you feel that way. You're very special and unique. There are not very many people like us in the world. Now, some things about this won't be so good. Sometimes you'll feel scared, confused, angry, and sometimes sad. But if you focus on the good things, you can use even the bad things in a positive way. Perhaps one day, you can change the world."

"How? Even if I am different, I am only a boy, one person in a big world."

"People change the world all the time. Do you know every year a person is recognized for making the world a better place? They go to Stockholm, Sweden once every year, and they win an award called the Nobel Prize. They come from every country you can think of, all kinds of people, men, women."

"Kids?"

"No, Gabriel. It takes a lifetime of hard work and study to win the Nobel. But these people do all they can. They improve science, literature, even make the world more peaceful."

"I want to win the Nobel Prize someday. I want to change the world."

"And I believe you can, if you want it badly enough."

It was just very difficult to reconcile this memory with more recent ones. He wanted what his father told him to be true so badly. But what Mr. Linderman said was more realistic.

The windows became lighter, and Gabriel could tell that the first rays of dawn were appearing. He thought that a walk with his thoughts would help clear them up. So he got out of bed, put on his shoes, wrote a brief note on the motel stationary saying he was going on a walk and would be back soon, and picked up the staff just in case there was an intruder.

The three-wheeled bicycle was chained outside, and for a while Gabriel thought about riding it, but then he saw a well-worn walking path behind the motel. Gabriel walked on that. It went through a small forest. Gabriel was a little surprised at this. He knew Texas was a western state, and he thought it would be all deserts like all the Western movies. The path eventually led to a clearing, and when Gabriel got there, he was even more surprised.

It was a gentle hill with vibrant, green grass and covered from top to bottom with Texas blue bonnets and other wild flowers of all sorts of colors. In the rising sun, it all looked glorious. Gabriel looked around him in amazement as he climbed the hill. When he got to the top, he just sat down. He saw more flowers and more green grass on the other side and mist from the valley as well as more forest. As he looked around at all this, a thought occurred to him for the first time ever. As he thought back at all he had seen–the redwoods in LA, the magnificent buildings in New York, Pyramid Lake, Las Vegas, even the Nevada desert–he knew it was true.

"L'amerique est tres beau." (America is very beautiful.)

"Well, not as beautiful as Paris," part of his mind said. But he looked around again. This was indeed breathtaking, and he had never seen anything like it in Paris. France had its own beauty, but it wasn't superior to this. It wasn't really even inferior. It just . . . was. Perhaps what his father said was right, "Every place has its own beauty and character."

He then noticed that he was not alone. At the foot of the hill, he saw two people in conversation. As he came closer, Gabriel could see that these people were Future Hiro and Future Peter.

"I suppose I owe you an apology," Hiro said.

"No, it's not necessary. I came to my senses. I had forgotten how much she meant to you, how much she means to all of us. I had forgotten that you need her just as badly as she needs you."

"That's what I've been trying to say for months!"

Gabriel cleared his throat, and they both looked at him. "Pardon, monsieurs. I am sorry to interrupt, but if you do not mind, I have some questions."

"Of course, Gabriel," Hiro said with a nod.

"I don't completely understand how all of this factors into everything. I just have a nagging feeling that this doesn't change anything."

"Why's that?" Peter asked.

"I don't know. I mean, this is the same world. It hasn't changed at all."

"Six people changed forever. That's a big difference."

"Actually, I would say eight," Hiro said. "You forgot Claude and me."

"And Claire, and the sp–Monsieur Bennet, and Mohinder," Gabriel said.

"That's eleven," Peter said.

"But there are over 5 billion people in the world! What difference does that make? Besides, the Circle happened in the visions that Sanjong showed me, and things still turned out terrible."

"Well, there was a difference. When Claude found you, there was something wrong. Sylar had, well I guess the expression is, 'picked at your brain.'"

Gabriel gasped. "He took it out."

"No, actually, he left it in."

"No, I mean he took away my autism. He threatened to do so a number of times."

"We're not really sure what he did, but it took the fight out of you. You were very compliant and quiet. You didn't show any emotion when you confronted your father again."

"That's weird. You're saying he took it out, but really he made it worse?"

"I don't know. Maybe he meant to, but he got it wrong. But it happened because you let him do it. You didn't scream for help. You didn't try to connect with your father. And really the Circle was an experiment. We noticed the glowing thing and got you all together to see what would happen. It was a complete failure. Your powers went out of control. We don't know if it was because you were not in the right sorts or we got the wrong guy to be purple."

"But that's what caused the disaster?"

"That's a big part of it. Northpoint is another."

"And that's why we had no rights in the future. The NTs were scared of us. But still, what have we done? Northpoint still exists, I think, and we didn't even kill Sylar!"

"There is a simple reason why you feel your quest is unfulfilled," Hiro answered. He looked down at Gabriel. "The Circle isn't the end. It's only the beginning."

"What do you mean? Do I have to go through all of this again?"

"You know the statistics, Gabriel," Peter said. "Even in this time, 1 in 150 people are diagnosed with autism, and the prevalence keeps getting higher."

"Non, non! I won't listen to you quote that Autism Speaks garbage at me! I am not ashamed of who I am!"

"I'm not saying you should be, because you and Mohinder found another statistic through the Human Genome Project."

"And what would that be?

"About 1 in 150 of you . . . will become one of us. And that could be a wonderful thing, a beautiful thing, or it can be terrifying."

"So you have to keep looking for them," Hiro said. "Gather them together, and give them the control and understanding that they seek. And give us a reason not to fear."

"And what about this?" Gabriel said holding out the staff.

"You know, actually, I didn't know that really existed."

"Well, I did," Peter said. "Mom had the papers for it. You see, Gabriel, both of us share the ancestor of William the Conqueror."

"Wasn't he an English king?" Gabriel asked.

"Yes he was, but you have to remember, he was first called William Duke of Normandy. Normandy is France. His descendants were travelers. Some came to America and became heroes in the Revolutionary War, and some went to Japan. But they were very talented. Some were even geniuses. One of his descendants was Edmund Spenser."

"Writer of _The Faerie Queen!_"

"That's right. The father of the boy who owned this staff wished to be a writer as well, and he wrote strange stories about a shepherd who lived in Japan who had a magic staff. Only Mom and Mr. Linderman knew the stories were true. Just as Hiro's sword focuses his powers, the staff will help yours grow. You will become more sensitive to who needs your help, and you will continue to understand others on more levels than language."

"Those things are pretty handy to have," Future Hiro grinned. That was probably the first time Gabriel saw his future self smile.

"But what gives it its power?" Gabriel asked.

"That's a great mystery. It has something to do with that symbol, but it driven by your own confidence. So as the great proverb says, 'Whatever you do, do with all your heart.'"

"Merci monsieurs," Gabriel said, and without thinking, he bowed to Hiro. "Hey, I do understand you! I just reflected Japanese culture, didn't I?"

"Yes," Hiro replied. "You'll be surprised how much you know."

"Good luck, Gabriel," Peter said. "If you ever need us, we'll be with you in spirit."

Gabriel gasped. "Hanami's power! An impression of you will always remain in me."

"That's right," Hiro said.

"Wow. Well, merci again. I better be getting back."

* * *

They went to the airport around 9:00 and waited at the gates. Mr. Nakamura's language was so vague, the whole crew came. He arrived soon after they gathered.

"Father," Hiro said approaching him with a bow. "As I have vowed to you, here is your granddaughter." He nudged Hanami toward him.

"Grandfather," she said, bowing as well.

"Hanami," Kaito said as he bowed to her. Then he looked up at Hiro. "Very good, son. You have fulfilled your vow. I regret the accusations that I made against you. Now, I must bring something else against you. I received a message from a trusted friend of mine yesterday that you and all your friends here have worked together to destroy the future that I had planned so carefully for her good. To this, what do you say?"

"Father, I am sorry, but you must understand. I have seen visions of her in the future. I know you mean well for Hanami, but it would only ruin her and crush the gifts inside of her."

"All Kimiko wishes of her daughter is to contribute to society. This would be the most significant contribution."

Gabriel spoke up, "With all due respect, sir, how can one contribute to society when one is locked away in a building all her life?"

"I believe the person to asks that is you own father."

"And I wouldn't put her through that for the world!" Michael replied. "Do you know that they terminate patients that don't meet their criteria? They nearly did to me, but I got away."

"I am not surprised, actually. Sometimes such measures must be taken."

"Father! How can you do that to you own granddaughter?" Hiro cried.

"These are professionals, Hiro! They know better than anyone else."

"No, they don't," Gabriel said. "NTs can do all they can to study autism or interact and treat it, but they'll never know what it is unless they live it. We are the real professionals."

"So, what is it you recommend?"

"She should not be separated from the people who love her. Being put in a strange environment with people who don't even care, that's not right."

"Yes, and even they won't understand her power," Hiro said.

"They may understand better than you may think," Kaito said. "But in this future you saw, you really think what she would experience at their hands would be damaging?"

"Yes, father. I could not bear to see her, but–"

"It was terrible," Gabriel said. "She was sitting there still, expressionless, almost lifeless."

"Very well. I must trust you on this. I will modify my plan. We will return to Japan. In a matter of days, we will have the ceremony which has been delayed. We will try home schooling her for a year, and I want you, Hiro, to be a part of her education from now on."

"Me?"

"Yes, but no more mangas, and no more video games. This is serious business. You must train her gift. Educate her the way I educated you."

"With the stories of Kensei?"

"Exactly."

"Oh Father, I would be honored!" Hiro broke out into a grin. Then he gestured for Hanami to come to him.

"What is it, Hiro?"

"Oh, we must go back outside to get the sword. They wouldn't allow me to take it in. I will get it, and Hanami and I will teleport together to Japan so–"

"You may teleport yourself down there if you wish, but Hanami must come with me."

"Why?"

"It would be better if I explain to her parents what happened. I believe they would be more opened to listening to me. I will tell Kimiko with great pride that Hanami will carry on our family legacy after I die and after you die. And you–" To everyone's surprise, he turned to Gabriel. "It is Gabriel Good Man, yes?"

"Bonhomme, monsieur," Gabriel replied.

"Yes. It is my understanding that you immediately translate every language you hear in your mind."

"It is something like that, monsieur."

"You skills will be very valuable to my company. We are working on software that translate web pages in other languages. If you could join us and be a translator that we may understand the nuances of the most difficult languages, I will make sure you are paid very handsomely."

"That is a generous offer, monsieur, but I am still in the middle of my education."

"That is not a problem. Tokyo has a fine university. You may transfer there while–"

"I am afraid again I must decline. I have been estranged from my father for four years. I want to be with him for a while, maybe participate in some of his courses."

"If they'll let me teach again," Michael muttered. "They probably thought I was dead too and filled my position."

"Oh, that could be taken care of easily," Bennet said, "once you know the right people."

"As a father myself, I can appreciate that," Kaito said with a nod. "Very well. When your education is complete, my offer will still stand."

"In the meantime, monsieur, perhaps you can speak to Micah Sanders. His expertise lies in such things. Here, I have his email."

"Micah Sanders?" Kaito nodded. "Yes, I believe I may contact him. One of my employees knows his mother quite well."

Hanami, meanwhile was wondering off by herself, or so it seemed. "You did a very good job, Dear One," Future Hiro said to her. "Everything's going to be ok now. I am so proud of you."

"Thank you, Uncle Hiro," she said softly.

There was only one person who noticed what she was doing. He came close to her and knelt down to her level. "Well, love, I think your granddad wants to take you home now. Just between you and me, I can't say I won't miss ya." He ran his fingers through her hair and whispered, "You look after yourself, alright?"

Hanami completely surprised him. She put her arm around his neck and kissed his cheek.

Claude lost his balance for a moment. He started laughing uncontrollably. He finally got up and rubbed where she kissed him. "Well, it's been a while since I've gotten one of those!" He laughed a little more, then he sighed. "Invisibility, you gotta love it."

"Because you're blushing like a schoolgirl?" Bennet asked.

"Yes, but you wouldn't know, would you?"

"Might I have one, Hanami?" Gabriel asked. He knelt down to her, and as he had attempted to upon first seeing her, he kissed her hand. "Adieu, ma cherriee."

"Adieu, mon cherrie," she replied.

"Nice mimic," Bennet nodded.

"It wasn't a mimic. She got the gender right," Gabriel replied. He then shook Bennet's hand. "Adieu and merci, sp–I mean, Monsieur Bennet."

"Oh, you can still call me a spy if you want to. It's kinda cool. Just remember, I'm on your side, but I do really apologize for accusing you of conspiring with Sylar."

"D'accord." He shook Claire's hand. "Let me know if you have any more trouble with your French. I'll be happy to tutor online."

"Sure," she said. "And if I ever do go to Paris, can I look you up?"

"Bien sur." He shook Mohinder's hand. "It was such a pleasure to meet you, monsieur."

"Likewise. You know, I really need to analyzed what happened yesterday. Can I contact you for your input?"

"On one condition–when you get to Stockholm–"

"Ah ah!" Mohinder shook his finger. "IF! The word is IF get to Stockholm!"

"Like I said, WHEN you get to Stockholm, let me know."

"Sure, ok, I will."

Gabriel then approached Claude. "Monsieur Rains, or Claude, whichever you prefer–"

"Ah, doesn't matter," he muttered.

"I know you're against humanity and all, but I'd like to consider you my friend, even if it's not mutual.'

"Well, you're a lot of things kid, but boring's not one of 'em. So, you have that going for ya." So Claude took Gabriel's hand and shook it.

"Merci. I suppose this is 'adieu.'"

"Oh, don't you worry 'bout that. I'll be seeing ya." He back up a couple of steps. "I'll be seeing the lot of ya. Maybe sooner, maybe later, but one day. Of course," he added with a sly chuckle, "I can't promise the same the other way around." As he was talking, he kept backing up.

"But we can–" By then, Claude was lost in the crowd of people going to the gate. "Wow, he's good."

"Yeah. He's had practice," Peter said.

Gabriel began to shake his hand, but then he hugged him. "I can't thank you enough, cousin. Finding my father, bringing us back together, being part of the Circle."

"I'm just glad to be of help. You'll keep in touch, right?"

"Definitely."

"We'll send you a Christmas card," Michael said.

Finally, Gabriel turned to Hiro. "I'm really going to miss you. I'm so glad to call you my friend. You helped make me a hero." He grinned and lifted his arms. "You did it!"

Hiro smiled. "You are a good friend, too. Like the oni said, I'll try to come visit you. Hey, do you want me to drop you off?"

"Excusez-moi?"

"When I go back to Tokyo, would you like me to first take you and your father back to Paris?"

"That's nice of you to offer, Hiro, but I was thinking I would like to fly home."

"How are we going to do that without a passport?" Michael asked.

"Oh, do not worry. I will take of everything," Kaito offered.

"I don't mean in a plane," Gabriel said. He looked at Michael. "Papa, I want to fly home." He pointed at himself.

Michael must have caught on. "Gabriel, are you sure? You remember how easily I got lost?"

"You could just follow me." Gabriel chuckled and added, "I can get home in my sleep."

"Alright, we can try."

They went outdoors. Hiro ran to the car, got out Kensei's sword, shut his eyes, and promptly disappeared. Meanwhile, Michael and Gabriel stood out in the parking lot, spread their arms, closed their eyes, and began to glow. There was a flash of light, and as soon as it disappeared, two doves took to the air.

* * *

Stockholm, Sweden–Some Years Later

"I now present to you this year's winner of the Nobel Prize in Physiology and Medicine, please welcome from India, Dr. Mohinder Suresh!"

Tremendous applause. Mohinder went up to shake his presenter's hand who then placed on Mohinder's neck a medallion. The audience continued to applaud and gave him a standing ovation. Mohinder then approached the podium. "Thank you," he said into the microphone. The applause began to die down, and when it silenced Mohinder spoke again. "I am absolutely humbled to be in the presence of such great men and women. I honestly had no idea that I would be worthy of such an honor. I had a friend who, when he heard that I was nominated, kept saying to me 'when you go to Stockholm,' and I kept correcting him, 'If! If!'" (Laughter) "He had more faith in me than I had in myself, and for good reason. When I first learned that my name had been considered for a nomination for this honor, I meditated, asking myself, 'What have I done deserving of this?' After much soul searching, the answer came quite clear–I have done nothing." (A few mumbles) "I have pursued my father's work, who is dead. Sometimes I feel that he is the one who deserves this. I have much of this part of my life promoting evolution, and yet I have not evolved myself in the ways my father had proposed. Therefore, if you forgive for being unorthodox, I wish to introduce you to a few people who have done something." He gestured to the side of the stage. "From New York City, Peter Petrelli."

At the cue, Peter cautiously walked up and across the stage.

"From Washington, D. C., Senator Nathan Petrelli."

Peter's brother joined him on the stage.

And he listed off several other names, "Officer Matthew Parkman . . . Claire Bennet . . . Nicole Sanders . . . Micah Sanders . . . Molly Walker . . . Harmony Miller . . . Hiro Nakamura . . . Hanami Nakamura" and so many others from all over the world. In the middle of it all, he came to, "From Paris, France, Gabriel Bonhomme."

Gabriel got up and took his place on the stage. He felt intimidated. Looking in the audience, he could see notable names of past winners that he had memorized since he was a boy. Mohinder called up more names. Before long, the stage was full of people from every liveable continent. There was scattered applause when everyone was up there.

"All of these people, as some of you are perhaps aware, do represent the evolution theories proposed by my father. Just a few years ago, it would have been a risk to display them publically in this manner, but thankfully times have change, and I am grateful for these who have agreed to come. There are many more that I am sure could not fill this stage. Some have regretfully passed away. Some prefer their privacy, which I respect. Others have yet to be discovered. The truth is these people are the entire reason I am here. They have taught me the truth about evolution. What we think of as a gift and a blessing can be terrifying and create damage untold. I have seen it happen with my own eyes. Conversely, what we consider a curse can be beautiful and wonderful and can even restore peace. What I am saying is that the greatest lesson I've learned is that it is not the abilities that make these men and women evolved. It is, for one thing, the choices they made about how to use these abilities. It is also attitude we have toward them. These people have all done incredible things to better this world. They have encouraged each other. They have shown me that evolution is not in the genes or the DNA. True evolution is in the heart. All of these people have both evolved genes and evolved hearts. That is why they deserve this honor far more than I do."

At these words, Mohinder approached Gabriel, took the medallion off his neck, and placed it on Gabriel's shoulders. Slowly, the applause began. Gabriel watched as all of his heroes stood on their feet and continued to applaud. He then noticed people he knew. The Haitian and the spy were among them. Claude was standing in the aisle making a gesture like a toast, though he wasn't holding a glass. Gabriel saw professors from his college and government officials. People on the stage were applauding too. Gabriel put his hand over the medal. He just felt tremendously overwhelmed. He had no idea that Mohinder was going to do this.

Mohinder put his hand on Gabriel's shoulder. "This, by the way, is Gabriel Bonhomme. I want all of you to remember this young man. It is my firm belief that you will see him here again one day soon. I do not what he will do, but I am sure it would be incredible."

But Gabriel, without really understanding why, took the medallion off his neck, put it back into Mohinder's hand, and walked off the stage.

He felt like a changed man.

FIN


End file.
